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Elizabeth raised her cup to the toast 









ELIZABETH HOBART 

AT 

EXETER HALL 


BY 

JEAN K. BAIKD, 

AUTHOR OF 

“ DANNY,” “ CASH THREE,” “ THE HONOR GIRL,” ETC., ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED BY R. G. YOSBURGH 


THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 

New York Akron, Ohio Chicago 











1 LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

JIJN 21 'H07 


/jCooyntrht Entry 

<UmiX.ht9»1 

xSCass CX axc., no. 

^ J7994' / 


COPY B. 


Copyright, 1907, 


The Saalfield Publishing Company 





MADE BV 

THE WERNER COKIPAiW 

AKRON, OHIO 


. 








CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Preparations for School .... 7 

II. The Journey.25 

III. The Dinner Episode.55 

IV. The Reception.81 

V. A Box from Home ...... 113 

VI. How “Smiles” was Scalped . . . 143 

VII. Defying the Powers. 167 

VIII. Midnight Confidences.199 

IX. Joe’s Message.227 

X. Clouds and Gathering Storms . . . 249 

XI. The Proud, Humbled. 273 

XII. The Seniors Outwitted. 299 

XIII. Imprisonment.323 

XIV. Retaliation . ..339 

XV. Victory.. . . .361 



















ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE X 

Elizabeth raised her cup to the toast . Frontispiece 


“ Liberty frightening the world/’ said Mame 
Welch. 144 

“ We shall manage the affair very well 
without you ” . 296 

“ You MUST CHOOSE AND CHOOSE QUICKLY ” . 364 





ELIZABETH HOBART AT 
EXETER HALL. 

CHAPTER I. 

PREPARATIONS FOR SCHOOL. 

Bitumen was what its name suggested. 
There was soft coal and smoke everywhere. 
Each day the clothes on the line were flecked 
with black. The buildings had the dull, 
dingy look which soot alone can give. The 
houses sagged on either side of narrow, un¬ 
paved streets, where during a rainy period 
ducks clattered about with their broods, and 
a few portly pigs led their shoats for a mud 
bath. 

During a summer shower barefooted ur¬ 
chins waded knee-deep in the gutters, their 
trousers rolled to their thighs. Irish- 
Amerieans shot mud balls at black-eyed 

7 


8 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Italians; Polanders and Slavs together 
tried the depths of the same puddles; while 
the little boys of the Russian Fatherland 
played in a group by themselves at one end 
of the square. 

The houses were not so much homes as 
places of shelter. Walls painted red were 
the popular fancy. Although there was 
room enough, gardens were unknown, while 
blooming plants were rare enough to cause 
comment. Each dooryard had its heap of 
empty cans and pile of ashes. Ill-kempt 
women stood idly about the doorways, or sat 
upon unscrubbed steps with dirty babies in 
their arms. 

Bitumen was not a place of poverty. 
There was plenty of work for the men, and 
good wages if they chose to earn them. 
They lacked nothing to eat or wear. 
Money, so long as it lasted, was spent with 
a prodigal hand. The Company store kept 
nothing too good for their palates. Ex¬ 
pensive fruits and early vegetables were in 
demand. The cheap finery bought for the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


9 


young folk lasted but a few weeks, and was 
tossed aside by the next “pay day.” 

There was one saloon in the place. It did 
a thriving business in spite of some unseen 
influence working against it. Its proprietor 
was one Dennis O’Day, who held the poli¬ 
tics of the little town in his palm. He was 
a little brighter, a little keener and much 
more unscrupulous than the other men of 
the place, but he felt at times the force of 
some one greater than himself, and it was 
always directed against his business. He 
perceived it when he received orders that, 
in fulfillment of the law, he must remove 
the blinds before his windows, and keep his 
place open to the public view. He felt it 
again when he received a legal notice about 
free lunches, closing hours, and selling to 
minors. Never once had he stepped beyond 
the most rigid observance of the law but he 
was called to account for it. He knew some 
keen eye was upon him and some one ready 
to fight him and his business at every turn. 

The great blow came when the Club House 


10 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


was established. An empty store-room had 
been fitted up with chairs and tables and a 
supply of books and magazines. Here the 
boys had the liberty of coming to smoke and 
talk together while Joe Ratowsky served 
coffee and sandwiches cheaper than O’Day 
could sell beer. 

It was not Ratowsky’s doings. There 
was some one else behind the scenes who 
provided the brains and money to keep the 
business moving. Dennis O’Day meant to 
find out who that person was and square ac¬ 
counts with him. But for three years he 
had been no nearer the truth than now. To 
learn anything from Ratowsky was impos¬ 
sible, for the man had a tied tongue when he 
chose. 

In the midst of all the dirt and squalor 
there was one touch of dainty hominess and 
comfort. This was found near Mountain 
Glen, where the superintendent of the mines 
lived. The house was an unpretentious 
wooden building with great porches and big, 
airy rooms, but the windows shone in the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


11 


sunlight, the curtains were white as snow, 
and the worn floors of the porches were 
always scrubbed. 

In front and at the sides of the house was 
a lawn mowed until it looked like a stretch 
of moss. Masses of scarlet sage and cannas 
grew near the house, while at the rear a 
white-washed fence gleamed white. 

The superintendency of the Bitumen 
mines was not the most desirable position, 
cutting off, as it did, the man and his fam¬ 
ily from all congenial companionship. The 
salary attached was fairly good, quite suffi¬ 
cient to provide a comfortable, if not luxu¬ 
rious, living. The present incumbent had 
begun his profession with other ambitions 
than living in a little mining town. 

Twenty years before, Mr. Hobart, then 
newly married, had every prospect of be¬ 
coming prominent in his profession. He 
had new theories on mining and mine-ex¬ 
plosives. He had brought to perfection a 
substance to destroy the explosive gas which 
collects in unused chambers of mines. 


12 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Just at the time when the mining interests 
were about to make use of his discovery, his 
health failed from too close application. 
He was threatened with consumption, 
brought about by inhaling poisonous gases. 
He was ordered from the laboratory into the 
mountains. The Kettle Creek Mining Com¬ 
pany offered him a position at Bitumen, 
one of the highest soft coal regions in the 
world. The air was bracing and suited to 
his physical condition. Confident that a 
few months would find him restored to 
health, he accepted. But with each at¬ 
tempted return to lower altitudes the enemy 
came back, and months passed into years, 
until he came to look upon Bitumen as the 
scene for his life work. 

Here his only child, Elizabeth, was born. 
Here she grew into girlhood, knowing no 
companionship except that of her parents 
and Miss Hale, a woman past middle age, 
who, in her youth, had travelled abroad and 
had spent the greater part of her time in 
the study of languages and music. She had 


AT EXETER HALE. 


13 


come to Bitumen with her father for the 
same reason that had brought Mr. Hobart. 

She had a quaint old place just at the 
edge of town. Here, during the warm 
weather, she cultivated flowers and vegeta¬ 
bles. In her home were unique collections 
of botanical and geological specimens, books, 
and music. She found recreation in paint¬ 
ing both in oils and water colors, and in 
plaster-casting. 

She paid little attention to dress. Most 
frequently she might be seen in a gown ten 
years behind the fashions, driving a dash¬ 
ing span of horses along the rough mountain 
roads in search of some member of the mis¬ 
sion school in which she was interested. 
Most of the miners were Catholics, but here 
and there among them she found members 
of her own church and sought to bring and 
keep them together. Her appearance might 
cause a stranger to smile, but when once he 
heard her cultivated voice, and caught the 
varying expression of her face, he forgot all 
else. 


14 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Miss Hale taught Elizabeth French and 
music. Few days in recent years had been 
too cold or stormy to keep her from driving 
down the rough road to the Hobart home 
for the sake of the lessons. 

The other branches of his daughter’s edu¬ 
cation, Mr. Hobart took under his own 
charge. He taught her mathematics as con¬ 
scientiously as though he expected her to 
enter his own profession. 

This line of work had not been a burden 
to her. She had her father’s aptitude for 
study, and took up an original problem in 
geometry as most girls take up their fancy 
work. 

Elizabeth had no girl friends at Bitumen. 
Her father was the only really young per¬ 
son she knew, for although in years he was 
not young, yet in the joy he took in living, 
he was still a boy. He had the buoyancy 
of youth and the ability of manhood. No 
laugh came clearer or more often than his. 
No one could be dull in his presence. 

His daughter took part in his pleasures. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


15 


She was interested in his work; even his 
business affairs were not unknown to her. 
There was one subject, however, with which 
she was not acquainted. Many times while 
she was at her books, her parents with Miss 
Hale were deep in a discussion, which ceased 
when she joined them. 

She had finished her second reading of 
Cicero, and reviewed all the originals in 
solid geometry. Her summer suspension of 
study was about to begin. She was con¬ 
scious that something of importance to her¬ 
self was brewing in which she took no part. 
Miss Hale had made unusual visits and had 
been closeted with her parents for hours. 
One day Elizabeth sat studying in an upper 
room, and from her window she saw Miss 
Hale drive away. At the same instant her 
father called, “Elizabeth, Elizabeth!” 

She ran down-stairs. Her father and 
mother stood at the foot looking pleased. 

“I know she will be glad,” her mother 
said. 

“Of course she will,” replied her father. 


16 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


She paused on the stairway in wonder. 
She was very good to look at as she stood so. 
Her soft hair was drawn loosely back from 
her face, and hung in a long, fair plait down 
her back. She was not beautiful, only 
wholesome looking, with a clear, healthy 
color, and large, honest eyes. Her dress 
was a simple, inexpensive shirt-waist suit, 
but every article about her was in order. 
There was no sagging of belts, or loose 
hooks. 

Her father held out a book as she came 
toward them. He was brimming over with 
joy at the prospect of her delight. 

“It is a catalog of Exeter Hall, Eliza¬ 
beth. That is the school Miss Hale at¬ 
tended. I’ve looked over dozens of cata¬ 
logs and this pleases your mother and me 
best. We want you to go in the fall.” 

“Oh!” was all she said then, but it was 
expressive enough to satisfy her parents. 
She had read stories of schoolgirl life 
which seemed more like fairy stories than 
experiences of real girls. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


17 


“Look it all over, Elizabeth. The course 
of study is mapped out. We think the 
classical course suited to you. Your mother 
and I are going to drive down to the mines. 
Study the catalog while we are gone and be 
ready to tell us what you think of it when 
we come back.” 

She needed no second bidding to do this. 
By the close of the afternoon, she had read 
and re-read the prospectus. She became so 
excited she could scarcely sit still. There 
was one matter which did not fully satisfy 
her. She had advanced beyond the course 
at Exeter in some branches and smiled as 
she read the amount of work laid out in 
botany for the Middle Class. She had far 
exceeded that, for she had found and mount¬ 
ed every specimen of plant and flower that 
grew for miles around Bitumen. 

The cost of a year’s schooling was a sur¬ 
prise. Her father and Miss Hale could 
teach her everything that the course at Exe¬ 
ter included. It seemed foolish to spend so 


18 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


much money when all could be learned at 
home. 

That evening Miss Hale drove over to see 
how Elizabeth was pleased with the prospect 
of going away to school. The matter was 
discussed from all points of view. Then 
Elizabeth expressed the thought which had 
come to her while studying the catalog: 

“But I have had more work than the 
Freshman and Middle Classes require. It 
would not take me long to complete the work 
for the Senior year. I want to go,—I think 
I have always wanted to go to school, but 
it seems such a waste of money. You can 
teach me more, I can really learn as much 
at home.” 

Her father laughed, “Impossible! The 
girls at Exeter will teach you more in one 
term than I can in a year. I do not expect 
you to be a Senior. I shall be more than 
satisfied with your entering as a ‘Middler.’ 
YouII need plenty of time for extras.” 

“Extras? What extras must I take?” 

“Chafing-dish cooking and fudge mak- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


19 


ing,” replied Miss Hale, promptly. “It 
will take a full term for you to find your 
place among young people, and learn all they 
will teach you.” 

“But they will know no more than I do,” 
said Elizabeth. 

“Perhaps not so much; but what they 
know will bear no relation to what they 
teach you. I’m willing to promise that you 
will learn more from your roommate than 
you do from any instructor there.” 

Elizabeth glanced from one to the other. 
She failed to understand. 

“We will have no more lessons after to¬ 
morrow,” said Mrs. Hobart. “Elizabeth 
and I will begin putting her clothes in or¬ 
der. There will be a great deal to do, for 
she will need so much more at school than 
she does at home. We do not wish to 
hurry.” 

“Only eight weeks yet,” said Elizabeth, 
“I wish I was going next week.” 

The day f ollowing the work on the outfit 
for school began. “Plain and simple,” her 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


mother declared it should be. But Eliza¬ 
beth fairly held her breath as she viewed 
the beautiful articles laid out to be made. 

“This pale blue organdie will do for. re¬ 
ceptions and any public entertainments you 
have,” her mother explained. “Every girl 
at school needs some kind of a simple eve¬ 
ning dress. You 11 need a cloth suit for 
church and shopping. Then, of course, the 
school dresses.” 

Every morning Elizabeth on her way 
down-stairs to breakfast slipped into the 
sewing room to view the new dresses. She 
had never so much as thought, not to say ex¬ 
pected, to own a rain coat and bath robe, 
and a soft eider-down sacque. But there 
they lay before her. Their existence could 
not be questioned. 

“Do you think the other girls at Exeter 
will have so much?” she asked of Miss Hale. 
“I don’t want to look as though I was try¬ 
ing to out-dress anyone.” 

“If you find they have less than you, keep 
some of your good things in your trunk. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


21 


You do not need to wear them all,” was Miss 
Hale’s advice. “No doubt they are fixing 
themselves up, too,” she added. 

Elizabeth had never thought of the matter 
before. Now the mere thinking about it 
seemed to bring her into relation and sym¬ 
pathy with those hundreds of unknown girls 
who were, like her, counting each penny in 
order to spend it to the best advantage, all 
the while looking forward to the first of 
September. 

It came at last. The big trunk was 
brought down from the attic. The new 
dresses were folded and packed. The books 
which she might need at Exeter were put 
into a box. The trunk was locked and car¬ 
ried into the lower hall, waiting for the dray¬ 
man to call for it early the following morn¬ 
ing. 

At this juncture going away from home 
changed color. It was no longer something 
to look forward to with pleasure, but some¬ 
thing to dread. Elizabeth was not the only 
one who felt the coming separation. She 


22 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


noticed through a film of tears that the best 
linen and china were used, and that her 
favorite dishes had been prepared for the 
last home supper. 

Despite their feelings, each made an ef¬ 
fort to be cheerful. Mr. Hobart told in¬ 
cidents of his own school-days, and rallied 
Elizabeth on being homesick before she had 
started. 

Afterward, they sat together on the porch. 
The father and mother talked but Elizabeth 
sat silent. She was thinking that the next 
evening would find her far away and among 
strangers. She dreaded meeting girls who 
had been reared with others of their age, 
and who had been in school before, feeling 
that she would appear very awkward and 
dull until she learned the ways of school. 
She half wished that her father would tell 
her she need not go. She came closer and 
seating herself on the step below him, rested 
her head on his knee. “ Father, I do not 
wish, to go to Exeter. May I stay home 


AT EXETER HALL. 


23 


with you and mother? Be a good daddy 
and say ‘yes.’ ” 

“I shall be good and say ‘no.’ Our little 
girl must go away to-morrow. I can’t tell 
you how lonely we shall be, but we have had 
you so long that we were almost forgetting 
that you had a life of your own. We must 
not be selfish, so we send you off, bag and 
baggage.” Her mother added* “Unless 
she oversleeps, which I am sure she will un¬ 
less she goes to bed right away. It is later 
than I supposed. Come, Elizabeth.” 

As she spoke, Joe Ratowsky came across 
the lawn. In the moonlight, he looked like 
a great tawny giant. He spoke in English: 
“Mr. Hobart, that beeznez is no good. He 
no stay to-morrow. To-day homes he goes 
quick.” 

“Where is his home? Doesn’t he live 
here?” 

“Dennis O’Day, b’gosh, niver. So many 
as one children he have. Milton, he live. ’ ’ 

“Why doesn’t he bring his family here? 
I didn’t know the man was married.” 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“llmh—yes, b’gosh. His girl tall like 
your girl. He no bring her. He proud like 
the tivil. Never he tell his girl what he do 
here—no, b’gosh, he don’t.” 

“Well, come in and I will talk the matter 
over. We can’t do much else than wait.” 
Then turning to his daughter, “G-ood-night, 
Elizabeth, I must talk to Joe now.” 

Elizabeth ascended the stair. Joe’s visit 
had taken her mind from her going away. 
She wondered what the Pole could have in 
common with her father. Joe was not even 
a miner. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE JOURNEY. 

Only accommodation trains ran between 
Bitumen and Exeter. Elizabeth found 
herself in a motley crowd of passengers. 
To her right sat a shabbily dressed mother 
with a sick baby in her arms; back of her 
was a plain little woman of middle age 
dressed in a gingham suit and rough straw 
hat; while before her sat two young women, 
perhaps a year or two older than herself. 
They talked loudly enough to attract the at¬ 
tention of those about them. Elizabeth 
learned that the larger was named Landis, 
and her companion “Min.” 

They were handsomely though showily 
dressed. Min seemed to be less self-asser¬ 
tive than her companion. Landis evidently 
had confidence enough for two. She fre- 
25 


26 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


quently turned to look around, gazing into 
the faces of her fellow passengers with a 
self-assurance that in one of her age 
amounted almost to boldness. 

She had been careful to arrange her 
jacket that its handsome buckle and silk lin¬ 
ing were in evidence. She was a girl of 
large physique, with broad shoulders, which 
she carried rigidly. This, with the haughty 
pose of her head, attracted attention to her 
even in a crowd. 

Her companion was as tall, but more slen¬ 
der. It was evident that she looked up to 
Landis and depended upon her in every 
emergency. A reader of human nature 
could have seen at a glance that she was the 
weaker. 

Prom their conversation, it appeared they 
knew all places and people of importance 
along the route. As the train stopped at 
Westport, Landis viewed the town with crit¬ 
ical eye. 

‘ ‘ Tacky little hole, isn’t it ? I should sim¬ 
ply die if I were compelled to live here.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


27 


“You would never stand it. You’d run 
away, Landis, or do something desperate. 
Isn’t this where the Gleasons live*?” 

“It used to be. But they live at Gleason- 
ton now. They have a perfectly elegant 
place there. Of course, it is just their sum¬ 
mer home. I’d like to take you down there 
sometime. I feel like taking the liberty for 
they are such old friends. They are in 
Washington during the winter. He’s 
United States Senator, you know.” 

“Have you ever been there to visit them, 
Landis?” 

“How could I, Min? I’ll have to leave 
all such times until I’ve finished school and 
have come out. I don’t doubt that Mrs. 
Gleason will ask me there for my first sea¬ 
son. She’s not a society woman. She 
hasn’t much ability that way, and has sense 
enough to know it; so she goes in for charity, 
and temperance work, and all that.” 

A suppressed exclamation from the seat 
behind her caused Elizabeth to look around. 
She was just in time to see the plainly- 


28 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


dressed woman suppress a laugh. As Eliz¬ 
abeth glanced at her, she was pretending ab¬ 
sorption in a magazine, but her lips were yet 
twitching with amusement. 

The baby across the aisle began a low, 
fretful cry. The mother soothed it as best 
she could, holding it in her arms, patting it 
on the back, and trying all manner of de¬ 
vices to keep it quiet. A little boy several 
years old was on the seat beside her, and 
the instant the baby began to fret, he set up 
a distinct and independent howl of his own. 

Landis made no attempt to conceal her 
discomfort. 

4 ‘How annoying!” she exclaimed in tones 
that could be heard half the length of the 
car. “Anything but a crying baby! Why 
don’t women with babies stay at home? It 
wouldn’t matter so much if there was a de¬ 
cent train on this road, but one can’t get a 
Pullman for love or money. If there is 
anything I despise, it’s traveling with a 
mixed set. You never know whom you are 
getting next to.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


39 


Her companion agreed, offering her sub¬ 
tle flattery in sympathizing that one of her 
station should be compelled to mingle with 
such people. 

Again Elizabeth, in her hurried glance, 
caught a twinkle of amusement in the eyes 
of the woman back of her. Elizabeth could 
form no opinion about the girls in the seat 
ahead. She had no precedent to guide her. 
All she knew was learned from her parents 
and Miss Hale. 

The train had been advancing at a steady 
if not rapid rate. They had descended the 
mountain, and were moving close to its base 
through a country barren of vegetation and 
population. There came a sudden jolt,— 
then a creaking sound as the train gradually 
slowed and then stopped. 

The passengers looked from the window. 
No station or village was in sight. There 
was a moment of uneasiness. A few men 
got up and went to see what the trouble was. 
An half-hour passed. The restlessness ex¬ 
pressed itself in words. Some complained 


30 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


loudly; some grumbled, others walked up 
and down the aisle, every few moments look¬ 
ing at their watches, while their faces grew 
more expressive of displeasure and annoy¬ 
ance. 

The baby across the way fretted. The lit¬ 
tle boy cried aloud. The tired mother wor¬ 
ried over them until she herself was almost 
sobbing. 

The half-hour lengthened into an hour. 
Then a trainman entered the car with the 
unpleasant news that they would be delayed 
yet longer. The air-brake had failed them, 
and they must wait -until the wreck-train 
came down from Westport with another car, 
so it might be an hour before they would be 
able to proceed. 

The girls, Landis and Min, left their 
places to walk up and down the aisle. Lan¬ 
dis looked infinitely bored. She turned to 
her companion with deprecatory remarks 
about second-class traveling, where one 
could not have either a lunch or dinner. 

The dinner hour had passed. Some of 


AT EXETER HALL. 


31 


the travellers who had a day's journey be¬ 
fore them had fortified themselves against 
hunger with a lunch. 

The baby continued crying. The older 
child clamored loudly for something to eat. 
Elizabeth crossed the aisle. 

“You look tired/' she said to the mother. 
“Will you trust your baby with me?” She 
held out her arms, but the child clung closer 
to its mother while its fretful cry grew 
louder. 

“Perhaps I can persuade her to come,” 
said Elizabeth, going to her lunch box and 
returning with an orange. The bright color 
attracted the child at once. Elizabeth took 
her in her arms and began walking up and 
down. The other passengers, absorbed in 
their lunches or growling at their own dis¬ 
comfort, paid little attention to her. 

The little boy continued his pleadings for 
something to eat. The mother endeavored 
to call his attention to other matters. 

“Have you nothing for him?” asked 
Elizabeth. 


32 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


The woman’s face flushed at the question. 
She was a subdued, worn-out little soul 
whose experience with the world had made 
her feel that every one was but awaiting an 
excuse to find fault with her. Her manner 
as she replied was more apologetic than ex¬ 
planatory. 

“No; I hain’t. I counted on being home 
before noon. My man has a job in the 
brickyard at Italee, and we’d been there now 
if the train hadn’t stopped. I was up to 
Leidy a-buryin’ my mother,” she added, as 
though she expected that Elizabeth might 
blame her for being on the train at all. 

Landis and Min had gone back to their 
seats. Hearing this bit of conversation, 
Landis turned her head to look at Elizabeth 
and her friend. Judging from her expres¬ 
sion, she had no sympathy with a girl like 
Elizabeth who could hob-nob on a train with 
a common-looking person like this woman. 

Landis turned back to her companion, 
who had opened a small leather lunch-case 
and was spreading out napkins on the seat 


AT EXETER HALL. 


33 


before her. The napkins were of heavy 
linen with drawnwork borders. The drink¬ 
ing-cup was silver. The lunch was in har¬ 
mony with its service. There were quanti¬ 
ties of dainty sandwiches, olives and pickles, 
fruits, the choicest bits of roast chicken, 
slices of meat-loaf, and several varieties of 
cake and confections. The sight of it was 
quite enough to make one’s mouth water. 

The lady back of them had also opened 
her lunch. She, too, had heard the conver¬ 
sation between Elizabeth and the woman 
with the babies. Arising with her lunch in 
her hand, and a traveling cape over her arm, 
she came over to where Elizabeth stood with 
the baby. 

“The trainmen tell me we shall have an 
hour to wait,” she said, addressing them. 
“I see a pretty little bit of grass out here, 
not far from the car. There is shade, too. 
Don’t you think it would be pleasant to sit 
out there and eat our lunch together? It 
would be rest from the close car.” 

Undoubtedly she was one whose sugges- 


34 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


tions were followed, as she expected them 
to be now. Before she had ceased speaking 
she had the boy in her arms, and was on the 
way to the door. The mother and Elizabeth 
with the baby followed. 

A narrow green bank lay between the rail¬ 
road and the creek. A large forest oak 
stood there, making the one bit of shade 
within sight. The woman, with the boy in 
her arms, hurried to this. Spreading out 
her traveling cape, she put him down upon 
it, and immediately taking a sandwich from 
her lunch, placed it in his hands. His cries 
ceased. He fell to munching the sandwich, 
at intervals giving expression to his enjoy¬ 
ment. 

Elizabeth trudged after with the baby. 
She had never carried such a burden before, 
and was surprised to find how heavy the 
frail little child was. It was all she could 
do to keep it from slipping from her arms, 
or jumping out over them. The uncertainty 
of what its next move would be caused her 
to clutch it so tightly that her muscles and 


AT EXETER HALL. 


35 


nerves were at a tension, and she was glad 
to put it down on the cape also. The 
mother, with her eyes open wide at this un¬ 
expected goodness of strangers, was close at 
her heels. 

“It’s her sleeping time,” she explained. 
“That’s what makes her fret so.” 

“Will she eat a piece of orange?” asked 
Elizabeth, preparing to remove the rind. 

“I don’t know but what she will.” 

Elizabeth held it out. The baby knew 
whether she would or not. Instantly her 
fingers closed about it, and carried it to her 
mouth. It was only a few moments until 
the eyes closed and the child was fast asleep 
with the bit of orange tight in her hand. 

“Your husband works at Italee?” asked 
the woman of the child’s mother, as she was 
arranging her lunch for them. 

“Yes’m, he works in the brickyard there. 
We hain’t been there long. I was just up 
home bur yin’ my mother.” 

“What is your husband’s name?” 

“Koons—Sam Koons. He’s a molder. 


36 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


They pay pretty well there. That’s why we 
moved. He used to work up at Keating; 
hut it seemed like we’d do better down 
here.” 

“There’s no brickyard at Keating?” 

“No; but there’s mines. Sam, he’s a 
miner, but he’s takin’ up the brick trade.” 

“Yes; I see. I do not wonder that you 
were glad to leave Keating. It surely is a 
rough place. I have never known a town so 
reeking with liquor. There’s every induce¬ 
ment there for a man’s going wrong, and 
none for his going right.” 

Yes m, said hlrs. Koons. Her depre¬ 
catory, worried expression showed that she 
appreciated the disadvantages of the place. 
“That’s what I’ve always told Sam,” she 
continued in her apologetic, meek voice. 
“When a man’s trying to do his best and 
keep sober, there’s them what would come 
right in his house and ask him to drink. A 
man may be meanin’ well, and tryin’ to do 
what’s right, but when the drink’s in his 
blood, and there’s them what’s coaxin’ him 


AT EXETER HALL. 


37 


to it, it hain’t much wonder that he gives up. 
Sam, he’s one of the biggest-hearted men, 
and a good miner, but he’s no man for stand- 
in’ his ground. He’s easy-like to lead. 
We heard there wasn’t no drinkin’ places 
about Italee—they wasn’t allowed—so we 
come.” 

“'Yes; I’ve heard that Mr. Gleason tried 
to keep the place free from drink.” 

“Yes’m, but folks down there say that the 
Senator don’t have much to do about that. 
It’s his wife that does all the bothering. 
She’s the one that tends to that. Her bein’ 
a woman and trustin’-like, mebbe, is what 
makes it easy to deceive her.” 

“Oh, they do deceive her, then?” 

“Yes’m. There hain’t no drinkin’ places 
open public-like. A stranger couldn’t,go in 
there and buy a glass of anything; but them 
what’s known can get pretty much what they 
want.” 

“Someone keeps a speak-easy?” 

“Yes’m. Big Bill Kyler gets it every 
week, and the men get what they want.” 


38 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“Bill Kyler—um-m,” said the lady. 
“And where does he get it?” 

“Dennis O’Day, the man what owns the 
brewery and the wholesale house, sells to 
him. Big Bill drives down in the afternoon 
and comes home after dark. ’ ’ 

“Each Saturday, you say?” asked the 
woman. 

“Yes’m.” 

During the conversation, Elizabeth had 
also been emptying her lunch-box. She lis¬ 
tened eagerly to the conversation between 
her companions. This Dennis O’Day was 
the man who was doing all in his power to 
demoralize Bitumen. She was interested 
because she knew of him, and moreover, by 
the feeling that these questions were asked 
from more than passing curiosity. 

“This O’Day is about at the end of his 
string, ’ ’ continued the lady. ‘ ‘ There are too 
many people watching him, eager to find 
him overstepping the letter of the law. I 
can promise you, Mrs. Koons, that he or his 
friend, Bill Kyler, will not be long at either 


AT EXETER HALL. 


39 


Gleasonton or Italee. But come, let us dis¬ 
pose of the lunch while the babies are taking 
care of themselves.” 

She had arranged the repast as daintily 
as her surroundings would permit. Several 
discarded railroad ties served as a table. 
Over these, she had spread napkins. To¬ 
gether the three sat at the improvised table 
until not a scrap of lunch remained. 

“I didn’t know how hungry I was,” said 
Mrs. Koons. “We have to drive five miles 
to the station and that gets us up pretty 
early. An’ by the time I got the children 
up and dressed and got dressed myself, I 
hadn’t no time to eat much. I was just set- 
tin’ down when pap drove round and told 
me I should hurry up or we’d miss the train, 
and I couldn’t miss it, for Sam was ex¬ 
pectin’ me to-day. He’s been gettin’ his 
own meals and he wanted me back home; so 
I didn’t scarcely finish my coffee. I was ex¬ 
pectin ’ that I’d be home in time for dinner, 
and I would if the train hadn’t been late.” 

“You can’t get to Italee to-night, then,” 


40 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


said her benefactress. "There’s only one 
train a day from Gleasonton to Italee and it 
has gone by this time. They don’t wait on 
the accommodation.” 

"Can’t I? Isn’t there?” Mrs. Koons’ 
countenance fell. "But I’ve got to get 
there! There hain’t no one I know in Glea- 
sonton. If it wasn’t for carrying the chil¬ 
dren, I’d walk. It hain’t more than five 
miles, and mebbe I’d meet someone going 
up. The trucks come down pretty often. 
I’ve got to get there even if I have to walk.” 
Back of her years of repression, her native 
independence showed. She had set out to 
reach Italee, and she meant to. Difficulties 
like a walk of five miles with two children 
in her arms might hamper but not deter 
her. 

"Do not worry about that. I get off at 
Gleasonton, and I’ll get someone to drive 
you over. The roads are fine now and it 
will not take long.” 

"Yes’m. Oh, thank you! It will be kind 
of you, I’m sure, for walkin’ with two ba- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


41 


bies in your arms ain’t very pleasant. Do 
you live in Gleasonton, ma’am'?” 

“I’m not living there now. All summer 
I have been out on the Creighton farm be¬ 
yond Keating. ” 

“Hain’t it lonely out there*? I’ve driv 
by. It’s fixed up grand with big porches, 
and swings, and loads of flowers and all that, 
but there hain’t a house for miles about. 
I’d think you’d find it lonely?” 

“Not at all. I take my children along, 
and I’m too busy while I’m there to be 
lonely.” 

“Oh, you’re a married woman then, and 
have a family of your own. I was a-think- 
in’ just that thing when you picked up little 
Alec here. You had a knack with him that 
don’t come to a woman unless she’s used to 
handling young ones. How many children 
have you? They’re pretty well grown, I 
suppose.” 

Again Elizabeth caught the merry twinkle 
of amusement in the woman’s eyes. 
“Really, you may think it strange,” she re- 


42 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


plied, “when I declare that I really am not 
certain how many I have. There are so 
many that, at times, I almost forget their 
names. None of them are grown up; for 
when they are, I lose them. They go off 
into the world—some do well and some do 
not. One or two remember me; but the oth¬ 
ers forget that such a person as I ever 
lived. ” It was not in a complaining tone 
she spoke, rather in a spirit of light-hearted 
raillery. 

Elizabeth smiled. She understood the 
speaker, but Mrs. Koons did not. Elizabeth 
had been accustomed to hear Miss Hale 
speak thus of her mission boys and girls. 
Miss Hale looked upon them as a little fam¬ 
ily of which she was the head. 

Mrs. Koons was amazed. She had heard, 
in a misty way, of a woman who had so 
many children she did not know what to do, 
but she had never heard of one who had so 
many that she did not know how many. Yet 
she supposed that such a thing might be 


AT EXETER HALL. 


43 


true, and accepted the statement in good 
faith. 

“Pap was tellin’ me when I was home 
that Senator Gleason had bought the farm, 
and it was him that fixed it up so grand. 
Pap says they’ve only Jersey cows on the 
place,—no common stock—and chickens that 
they raise for layin’, and some for hatchin’, 
and some that’s for eatin’. But the Sena¬ 
tor don’t never stay up there much. He 
farms just for fun. But he must work 
pretty hard to get any fun out of it. I was 
raised on a farm and stayed there till I was 
married, and I never saw no fun anywhere 
about.” 

Again the laugh and again the merry 
twinkle came to her eyes. 

“It’s just the way we’re used to. If you 
had never been on a farm, perhaps you’d 
think it lots of fun to stay on one for awhile. 
I’m sure I thoroughly enjoy every minute 
I spend on the Creighton farm. The days 
are far too short for me.” 

“But perhaps you don’t have no work to 


44 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


do. Gettin’ up early is what makes it 
hard.” 

“I get up at daybreak, and I am busy 
every moment. I wash and dress and feed 
a dozen children. I have no moment to my¬ 
self.” 

Suddenly Mrs. Koons seemed to under¬ 
stand. “It’s too bad,” she said sympathet¬ 
ically. “Life’s pretty hard for a woman 
when she’s a family and has to look out for 
herself.” 

When they had finished their lunch, and 
began gathering and folding the napkins, 
Elizabeth observed something which had es¬ 
caped Mrs. Koons’ notice. The left hand of 
their unknown companion bore a heavy gold 
band, undoubtedly a wedding-ring, guarded 
by a diamond noticeable for its size and bril¬ 
liance. Her hands, too, were worthy of no¬ 
tice. They were white and soft, showing 
both good care and skilled manicuring. 
They were not the hands of one accustomed 
to manual labor. 

As Elizabeth assisted her in clearing away 


AT EXETER HALL. 


45 


the remains of the lunch, the conversation 
was directed toward herself. 

“You got on the train at Bitumen,” she 
said. “I took particular notice of you, for 
there one expects to see only foreigners 
board the car. ” 

Elizabeth smiled. She knew how few 
were the times when an American-born 
woman or girl ever was seen near the sta¬ 
tion. 

“We are mostly foreigners there,” she 
replied. 

“Don’t you find it dull?” 

“I never have so far. But then I never 
have known any life but that at Bitumen. 
This is my first trip away from home.” 
Her companion looked at her keenly. “Ex¬ 
pectant school-girl” was written from the 
top of Elizabeth’s fair hair to the soles of 
her shoes. Her linen traveling dress was 
conspicuously new, as were her gloves and 
shoes. 

“You are going to school, then?” 


46 ELIZABETH HOBART 

“Yes; to Exeter Hall.” Elizabeth won¬ 
dered in her own mind how she knew. 

“You’ll like it there. That is, unless you 
are the exception among girls. I was a stu¬ 
dent there over thirty years ago. I liked it, 
I’m sure. And every girl student I’ve ever 
met, and I meet them by the score, has no 
voice except to sing its praises.” 

“Do you know many of the students there 
now?” 

“I met most of those who were there last 
year. Some I knew quite well. Of course, 
the Senior class will not return, and there 
will be many new students. Those I hope to 
meet.” 

“I’ve never had any girl companions,” 
said Elizabeth. “I expect to like all the 
girls.” 

Again the smile. She shook her head de¬ 
cidedly in negation at Elizabeth’s remark. 

“No; you will not like them all,” she re¬ 
plied. “Exeter Hall is like a little world. 
We have some fine girls there, but we have, 
too, some that are petty and selfish. Ex- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


47 


eter Hall has sent forth some of the noblest 
women I have ever known, and it has also 
sent forth some that simply cumber the 
earth with their presence.’’ 

“I would think they’d be able to keep that 
last class out.” 

“ Perhaps it could be done. But the Hall 
is for the girls—not the girls for the Hall. 
Some flighty, irresponsible girls, under the 
influence of the school, develop into strong 
characters, and leave there to do good work. 
But there are always a few who fritter their 
time, and leave the same as they enter. But 
even these must be given the opportunity 
for development, if they are capable of it. 
You know that is true even in public 
schools.” 

“I know nothing about it,” was the reply. 
“I never went to school a day in my life.” 

“How then, child, do you expect to enter 
Exeter ? The requirements are consider¬ 
able, and the examinations rigid.” 

“I’ve been admitted. Miss Hale and my 
father taught me. Miss Hale said I was 


48 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


ready for the Middle Class, and they admit¬ 
ted me on her statement. ” 

“And well they might. They would take 
Julia Hale’s word for anything. Who that 
knew her wouldn’t ? ” 

“You know her, then?” 

“I was a student at Exeter. That means 
I know Julia Hale by report, at least. But 
I was more fortunate than the most of girls. 
I really met her and knew her well. Your 
father helped Miss Hale prepare you for 
school? Who is your father? I do not 
know your name.” 

“Hobart! My father is superintendent 
of the mines at Bitumen.” 

“I’ve heard of him, but I have never met 
him. He’s doing good work there.” 

“Yes,” was the reply. “He hopes by 
Christmas to have every chamber supported 
by new props, and an exhaust engine which 
will pump out the gas and make explosions 
impossible.” 

“I was not thinking of the mines when I 
said he did good work,” said her compan- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


49 


ion, and after a pause, “I think it is time 
we were getting into our car. I would not 
like the train to pull out without us. Look 
at the babies! Both asleep. Perhaps I 
can move them without wakening them.” 
But already Elizabeth had taken up the 
baby in her arms and was at the step of the 
car. As she waited for a trainman to help 
her on, she caught bits of the conversation 
between two men who stood on the rear plat¬ 
form of the smoker. They had been dis¬ 
cussing the “coal-fields”, and were looking 
up at the mountain which they had just de¬ 
scended. 

‘ 4 There’s plenty there to supply the coun¬ 
try for the next ten years. I wasn’t think¬ 
ing of the supply when I spoke, but of the 
possibility of not being able to get it out. 
You remember how the hard-coal region 
was tied up for eight months or more.” 

“There’s little danger here. The miners 
are satisfied—” 

“Yes—satisfied until an agitator comes 
their way. If I was the Kettle Creek Min- 


50 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


ing Company, I’d keep that man out of my 
community. He’s bound to stir up bad 
blood.” 

4 4 But he’s left the mining business. He ’ll 
not trouble himself.” 

“Not unless he sees more money in it. 
Matters have not been going his way lately. 
Someone has been dogging his steps, and his 
business is falling off. You know there’s 
really little money in that business if a man 
keeps within the law.” 

“Well, I pity that man Hobart if your 
friend begins his work. Hobart’s a fine fel¬ 
low, but is not accustomed to deal with men 
in the underbrush. ’ ’ 

“Hobart will take care of himself. He’s 
had his eye on—” 

At this moment the porter came to her as¬ 
sistance and Elizabeth heard no more. She 
wondered at their talk, but she was not un¬ 
easy. She had unbounded faith in her 
father, and felt that he would be able to pro¬ 
tect and take care of himself under all cir¬ 
cumstances. Entering the car, she depos- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


51 


ited her sleeping burden on the seat. The 
others followed with the boy and the wraps. 

Landis and Min had finished their lunch. 
There were several sandwiches, a chicken 
breast, half a bottle of olives, and cake un¬ 
touched. This Landis gathered together in 
a heap in her napkin. She arose and leaned 
toward the window. As she did so, the lady 
with whom Elizabeth had been talking 
touched her on the arm. But it was too 
late. The contents of the napkin had at 
that moment gone out the window. 

“I beg pardon,” she said, “I was about 
to ask you not to throw that good lunch 
away. There’s a woman, a foreigner, with 
her children in the rear of the coach, who 
has had nothing to eat.” 

“I do not know that it is my place to pro¬ 
vide it for her,” cried Landis, with a 
haughty toss of her head. 

a I am sorry that you see the matter in 
that light, ’ ’ was the rejoinder. ‘ ‘ There are 
so many little mouths to be fed that I dis¬ 
like to see good food wasted. Extrava- 


52 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


gance can be so extreme as to become a sin.” 

“I do not know that it is anyone’s affair 
what I do with my lunch,” was the re¬ 
sponse. 

The woman smiled, not at all affronted 
by the lack of courtesy shown her. 

“I make many things my affairs,” she 
said sweetly. “I think it my duty when I 
see a girl as young as you doing what is not 
right to remind her, in a spirit of love and 
tenderness, of her error. I am sorry if my 
suggestion can not be received in the spirit 
in which it was given.” Then she went 
back to her place. 

From the conversation of the two girls, 
Elizabeth caught such expressions as “that 
class of people,” “counting each penny,” 
“bound down by poverty,” and similar 
phrases. 

The train had started on its way. A 
half-mile passed before it again slowed up. 
“This is Gleasonton,” said the lady, arising 
and coming to Mrs. Koons to assist her with 
the children. With a farewell nod and 


AT EXETER HALL. 


53 


smile to Elizabeth, they quitted the car. 
From the window she saw them try to make 
their way through the crowd of loafers 
which had gathered about the platform. 
Suddenly a young colored boy in snuff-col¬ 
ored suit and high hat appeared. He im¬ 
mediately took charge of the children, and 
with them in his arms pushed his way to 
where a carriage stood at the curb, the 
women following close at his heels. 

As the train pulled out, Elizabeth saw 
them bowling down the country road in a 
wide-open barouche, with coachman and 
footman in livery. 

It was not long until the trainman called 
“Exeter !” Elizabeth gathered up her 
wraps and magazines. She knew that she 
might expect a carriage from the Hall at the 
station to meet the students. 

Landis and Min had also gathered to¬ 
gether their belongings. As the train drew 
into the station, they were first on the plat¬ 
form. 

“There’s Jimmy Jordan!” they cried to- 


54 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


gether, as a young colored boy with an ex¬ 
pansive grin came up to take their luggage. 

“Jimmy, how’s the Hall?” 

Jimmy responded with a grin just a little 
more expansive than the previous one. 

Elizabeth stood close at their side. “Are. 
you from Exeter Hall?” she asked the boy. 
Having received an answer which she sup¬ 
posed an affirmative, she handed him her 
checks and the baggage which she carried in 
her arms. The girls whom the boy had ad¬ 
dressed as Miss Kean and Miss Stoner led 
the way. Elizabeth followed at their heels, 
and in a few moments the three were being 
driven rapidly to Exeter Hall. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE DINNER EPISODE. 

A drive of several miles through a beau¬ 
tiful country brought them to their destina¬ 
tion. Elizabeth was surprised, for neither 
her father nor mother had prepared her for 
the beauty of the place; a long stretch of 
campus, with great forest trees, beyond 
which were the tennis-courts and athletic 
fields; then the Hall itself. The original 
building was a large wooden mansion with 
wide porches and spacious rooms with low 
ceilings. But for years this had served as 
a home for the president of Exeter, the 
school itself having been removed to the 
newer buildings of gray stone. 

The carriage passed through shaded 
drives which led to the front entrance. 
Arm in arm, groups of girls in white gowns 
55 


56 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


were moving about or sat in little groups be¬ 
neath the trees. 

During the drive Elizabeth’s companions 
had chattered continuously. Elizabeth had 
paid little attention to them. Her eyes 
were on the new country about her. 

“It must be nearly dinner-time,” ex¬ 
claimed Landis, as the carriage turned in at 
the entrance to the campus. “The girls are 
all out. I hope we’ll be in time to go down 
with them. But we’ll have to go in and do 
the ‘polite’ with Miss Morgan.” 

“Nora O’Day is back,” exclaimed Miss 
Kean. “Isn’t that she out there on the 
campus with Mary Wilson?” 

‘Ht can’t be. Mary Wilson and she were 
never friends.” As she spoke, Landis 
leaned eagerly from the window to get a 
view of the campus. “It can’t be Miss 
O ’Day, ’ ’ she repeated. ‘ ‘ She and Mary are 
not the same style at all.” 

“I think Miss 0’Day’s swell looking. 
Don’t you?” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


57 


“She has plenty of money and knows how 
to dress,” was the rejoinder. 

They had reached the entrance door. 
Jimmy Jordan, who appeared to he general 
utility boy, dismounted to open the door for 
them. Then he lead the way into the great 
hall and on to the office, throwing open the 
doors before him with energetic officious¬ 
ness, giving one the impression that he was 
the most important personage at Exeter 
Hall. 

On entering the office, a woman advanced 
to shake hands with Miss Stoner and Miss 
Kean. With a few words of greeting, she 
dismissed them each with a bunch of jang¬ 
ling keys, and the information that they 
were to occupy the same rooms as the pre¬ 
vious year. Then she turned to Elizabeth. 
“This is Miss Hobart?” she said, shaking 
her hand cordially, and drawing her for¬ 
ward to a chair. “Your father wrote me 
that you would arrive to-day. Jordan,” 
to the boy who stood grinning at her side, 
“Miss Wilson is somewhere on the campus. 


58 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Ask her to step to the office, please. Miss 
Wilson will be your roommate. She will 
take charge of you. If you will excuse me, 
I’ll return to work which claims me.” She 
turned to her desk and was soon absorbed 
in correspondence. 

Elizabeth was thus given an opportunity 
to study her. She was a tall woman, so tall 
and slender that these qualities first im¬ 
pressed those who saw her. Yet later, when 
one stood beside her, you discovered to your 
surprise that she was merely the average 
woman in height. It had been her carriage, 
her manner of holding her head, which gave 
the impression of unusual height. One 
might have thought her critical and stern 
had it not been that the expression of her 
eyes, which were gray and unusually large, 
was gentle and shy. Her well-shaped head 
was crowned with coils of brown hair 
touched with gray drawn loosely back from 
a broad, low forehead. She was a woman 
who could not pass unobserved in a crowd, 
yet she was not beautiful. It was that her 


AT EXETER HALL. 


59 


presence was felt, rather than she herself 
observed. She had said little to the new 
student; yet the direct effect of her presence 
caused Elizabeth to be glad she had come to 
Exeter. 

6 ‘ Oh, here is Miss Wilson! ’ ’ Dr. Morgan 
arose. “Miss Wilson, Miss Hobart will be 
your roommate. I shall put her in your 
care.” 

The girl extended her hand. She was not 
nearly so tall as Elizabeth. Her yellow 
hair without ribbon or comb hung about her 
ears. She shook her head and flung back 
her locks like a spirited young horse tossing 
its mane. Her eyes were brown and danc¬ 
ing and her face was brimming over with 
fun. Her voice was high pitched and so 
cheery that her hearers were compelled to 
believe that she was at that minute having 
the best time of her life. 

“I have been expecting you,” she cried. 
“I was hoping you would come to-day so 
that we could get to housekeeping to-mor¬ 
row, for lessons begin the next day.” 


60 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


She led the way into the hall. Here she 
stopped to clap her hands in order to call 
Jimmy’s attention. “Here, Jimmy, take 
this lady’s checks and bring her trunks up 
to No. 10. If they are there before we get 
back from dinner, Jimmy, there’ll be a piece 
of cake for you.” 

Jimmy grinned and rolled his eyes, then 
swung himself down the hall in search of 
the baggage. 

Miss Wilson never ceased her chatter as 
they entered the side hallway and mounted 
the stairs. 

“The students must not use the main 
stairway, except during commencement 
week, under penalty of death,” she ex¬ 
plained. “That’s reserved for the Eac and 
other Lord-Highs. Here’s our room—quite 
close to the stairway. A nuisance, you’ll 
find it. Every girl on her way up or down 
will drop in to see us. It won’t be because 
we’re popular, but one can’t help wanting 
to rest after climbing stairs, and our chairs 
are particularly easy.” Her voice, as she 


AT EXETER HALL. 


61 


talked, had a ring of laughter in it which 
made Elizabeth feel, for the moment, that 
having your friends love you for your chairs 
alone was the greatest fun in the world. 

She led the way into their apartment. 
There was a big sitting-room with wide win¬ 
dows overlooking the campus; an open grate 
with log and gas fixtures, ready for the 
cooler days of autumn, filled the space be¬ 
tween the two windows. Erom this room a 
door led to a bedroom devoid of all fur¬ 
nishing except the simple essentials of a 
sleeping-place. 

Miss Wilson drew forward a chair. “Sit 
here a moment to rest. Let me put your 
wraps away. I’ll make a guest of you to¬ 
day. It isn’t long until dinner-time. We 
are expected to change our dresses. But 
Miss Morgan will excuse you to-day as you 
have just arrived. I think you will like the 
girls here.” 

She chatted on while Elizabeth rested and 
prepared for dinner. She looked with ad¬ 
miration upon Elizabeth’s linen frock and 


62 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


long braid of smooth hair. “I like the way 
you braid your mane,” she laughed, giving 
a toss of her own. “It’s the style of hair 
I’ve always coveted. A seige of fever a 
year ago is responsible for my new crop, 
short and curly. I look forward to the time 
when I, too, can appear with dignity and a 
coil of hair about my head.” 

“Do you think you could be dignified 
then?” asked Elizabeth shyly. She was 
standing in the middle of the bedroom with 
towel in hand. At her words Miss Wilson 
tossed hex head. 

“I’m afraid you will prove like the other 
girls here. They can not be brought to real¬ 
ize how much such trifles have to do with 
one’s manner. Short curls bobbing over 
one’s shoulders and dignity can never go to¬ 
gether. But let me put my hair up high 
and get on a trained skirt and you will see 
what you will see. People are bound to live 
up to their clothes. That is why, on general 
principles, I disapprove of bathing and gym 
suits. They give the wearer such a sense of 


AT EXETER HALL. 


63 


freedom. ” She laughed again. Elizabeth 
knew not whether she were serious or jok¬ 
ing. She was so effervescing with good 
humor that her companion had no oppor¬ 
tunity for a moment’s dullness or homesick¬ 
ness. 

“There’s the ten-minute bell,” she ex¬ 
claimed, as they returned to the study. 
“That is our last warning, and gives no one 
an excuse to be late. You will find Exeter 
rigid in many ways, Miss Hobart. Miss 
Morgan is what I call a crank on develop¬ 
ment of character. She keeps track of the 
thousand little things that a girl is supposed 
not to do. In her lectures to us, which she 
gives twice a semester, she declares that 
these seeming trifles are neither sins nor 
crimes in themselves, but getting into the 
habit of yielding to trifles is detrimental to 
the development of strong character. 
“Therefore,” at this Miss Wilson drew her¬ 
self up as tall as possible, and assuming 
Miss Morgan’s best manner continued, 
“trifles must be made subservient to us. 


64 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


We must conquer ourselves even in these.” 
Here Miss Wilson laughed merrily. “ Be¬ 
ing late; not having your necktie straight; 
letting your shoes run down at the heel; 
missing lectures—these, all these, and hun¬ 
dreds more, are trifles.” 

There was a hurried knock at the door. 
Without waiting for an invitation to enter, 
a young lady came in. Elizabeth’s fear of 
out-dressing the other girls vanished at the 
sight of her. The newcomer was a girl of 
slender physique and delicate, regular fea¬ 
tures. Her skin was almost olive in hue; 
her eyes were dark, with brows so heavy 
and black as to be noticeable. They were 
too close together and her lips and nostrils 
too thin to permit her being beautiful. Her 
dress was handsome and showy. It was of 
white silk, elaborated with heavy insertions, 
and transparent yoke and sleeve-caps made 
it suitable for an evening gown. Her 
hands were covered with rings scintillating 
at every gesture. Each movement of her 
body suggested silk linings and petticoats. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


65 


Her manner of speaking had a touch of af¬ 
fectation. 

“Ah, Miss Wilson, I’m awfully sorry to 
intrude, but will you be kind enough to hook 
my waist? I can’t reach the last two hooks 
on the shoulder. This style of fastening 
dresses in the back is such a nuisance.” 

“Surely,” replied Miss Wilson. Eliza¬ 
beth was surprised at the change which came 
to her roommate’s voice. There was neither 
vivacity nor good humor in it. It was ex¬ 
pressive of mere icy courtesy. 

“You must bend your knees a little, or 
I’ll be compelled to get on a chair. You’re 
so much taller than I.” 

The girl complied. Miss Wilson put the 
refractory hooks to their proper use, then 
stood quiet. Her guest made some trifling 
remark as though to continue the conversa¬ 
tion; but received no encouragement. Her 
dark cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she be¬ 
gan hurriedly, “I’m sorry to bother you 
so.” 

“It was no bother,” in the same cold, 


66 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


conventional voice. “I can assist yon any 
time. I understand how difficult it is to get 
into your clothes when you have no room¬ 
mate to pull you together.” Then with a 
smile she turned to Elizabeth. ‘ 6 Come, Miss 
Hobart, we must not be late for dinner the 
first evening at Exeter.” So saying, she 
held open the door, allowing Elizabeth to 
precede her from the room. Miss Wilson 
gave no explanation to Elizabeth of her 
manner toward the girl; neither did she of¬ 
fer an excuse for not introducing her. As 
they passed the open door, Elizabeth caught 
a view of this girl’s study. It was more 
than comfortable. There was a luxury of 
soft cushions and rich hangings. There 
were chairs and tables of carved wood. 

From all the rooms the students came 
forth two by two, their tongues flying as they 
made their way toward the dining-hall. 
There were frequent stops to greet one an¬ 
other, and a babel of voices expressing 
pleasure at this reunion. There were hand¬ 
shakes for those who were newcomers, and 


AT EXETER HALL. 


67 


embraces for old friends. Every one knew 
every one else or was going through the first 
process of meeting them. 

The olive-skinned girl in the handsome 
gown came from her room and passed the 
others. Each girl was careful to nod and 
bid her good-evening, but none greeted her 
effusively or even so much as shook hands 
with her. 

Miss Wilson was not lax in courtesy now. 
Drawing her arm through Elizabeth’s, she 
came up to the group of girls at the head 
of the main stairway. “I wish you girls to 
meet Miss Hobart,” she cried, “so that you 
may condole with her. She is to room with 
me this semester.” 

“Why this semester?” rejoined a tall girl 
in the group as she came forward extending 
her hand. “Why not the year?” 

“She may not survive,” said Miss Wil¬ 
son. “If she’s able to stand me one semes¬ 
ter, then she’ll be compelled to stay the year 
out.” 

“I am Anna Cresswell,” continued the 


68 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


tall girl to Elizabeth. “Mary Wilson’s in¬ 
troductions leave much to be desired. She 
rarely sees fit to mention the names of the 
people she introduces.” 

Miss Stoner and Miss Kean came up at 
this juncture. They had changed their 
traveling dresses, and were wearing light 
challis. They were introduced to Elizabeth, 
but neither made mention that they had seen 
each other in the car or had come up in the 
carriage together. Landis was most demon¬ 
strative in greeting Miss Wilson, chiding 
her for not writing during vacation, and 
declaring that they must make up for lost 
time by spending a great many leisure hours 
together now. Miss Wilson laughed mer¬ 
rily. She had been busy all summer, she 
said, and had written only to her own peo¬ 
ple. Elizabeth noticed that she expressed 
no desire to mortgage her future leisure 
hours by any promises. 

“You busy?” exclaimed Landis. “Now, 
what were you doing—reading novels, dress¬ 
ing and driving about?” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


69 


“I should scarcely he content with such 
a summer, Landis. No; I played nurse- 
girl to Mrs. Gleason’s large family. I was 
busy, too. The place was no sinecure, I as¬ 
sure you.” 

“Mrs. Gleason—from Gleasonton?” ex¬ 
claimed Min. “Why, I thought she had no 
children.” 

“She hasn’t—but she adopts them annu¬ 
ally. During July and August we had a 
dozen babies at their home. We went for 
them in the morning and took them back at 
night, and I gave each one of them a bath 
every day.” This last was said triumph¬ 
antly. 

“I’ve heard she was rather—eccentric!” 
said Landis. 

“Don’t you know her?” asked Elizabeth. 

“No; I do not—not personally,” was the 
response, “but we have mutual friends.” 

Miss Wilson would have quitted Miss 
Stoner and Miss Kean here, but was pre¬ 
vented by Landis telling her experience that 
day in the train, how a woman, a total 


70 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


stranger, had taken her to task for throw¬ 
ing away her lunch. 

“She was a common-looking person,” she 
added. “One could see she belonged to the 
middle class, and I suppose had been com¬ 
pelled to practice economy, so that my 
throwing a sandwich away seemed recklessly 
extravagant.” 

“Did you think she was common-look¬ 
ing?” asked Elizabeth. “Her skin was as 
fine as a baby’s, and her eyes were beautiful. 
Didn’t you see how expressive they were?” 

“No, I didn’t. All I could see was her 
gingham shirtwaist suit with its prudish 
white linen cuffs and collar, and her rough 
straw hat.” 

Miss Wilson put her arm through her 
roommate’s to hurry her. 

“Excuse us, girls, if we walk faster; I 
wish Miss Hobart to meet Nancy. She’s 
the girl ahead with Anna Cresswell.” 

Elizabeth was borne along toward the din¬ 
ing-hall, at the door of which Miss Cresswell 
and her companion stopped. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


71 


“ Nancy, I wish you and Miss Hobart to 
meet/’ said Miss Wilson, “and I intend 
that you shall be good friends. Nancy 
and I were brought up together, and she’s 
used to me. When you want anyone to sym¬ 
pathize with you because of me, go to 
Nancy.” 

“Her name is Miss Eckdahl,” added Miss 
Cresswell with a smile. 

“But she should have known. Everyone 
should know Nancy without being told. 
What is the good of being famous other¬ 
wise ? If your name goes not abroad, what 
is the good of being a champion in mathe¬ 
matics or anything else ? When I say 
‘Nancy,’ the intelligent person should know 
that I mean—” 

“Nancy Hanks,” added the girl herself. 
“I might be mistaken for the famous 
trotter.” 

So chatting, they entered the dining-hall. 
Tables set for six each filled the room. 

“Miss Cresswell, will you take charge of 
Elizabeth—I’m going to call you Elizabeth; 


72 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


yon don’t look nearly old enough to be Miss 
Hobart” 

“Yes; come with me, Miss Hobart. 
Nancy, I presume you and I part here. I 
shall be surprised if Miss Morgan permits 
you and Mary to be together much longer.” 

She led the way to a table by the window 
where she seated herself at its head, placing 
Elizabeth at her right. 

“Miss Morgan never allows roommates to 
sit together at meals,” she explained, “or 
two girls who have been reared together as 
Mary and Nancy have. She wishes us to 
know all the students, and tries to prevent 
our forming little cliques, as we’re bound 
to do when we room and eat and study with 
the same people.” 

“But what if you should not like the other 
peopled” asked Elizabeth. “It must be 
rather unpleasant to sit at meals with some¬ 
one whom you do not like.” 

“That is one of the lessons Miss Morgan 
is giving us the opportunity of learning. 
We may discover on close acquaintance that 


AT EXETER HALL. 


73 


one is more likable than we first supposed; 
and if that is impossible, then we learn to 
keep our dislikes to ourselves.” 

The dining-hall was rapidly filling. Lan¬ 
dis Stoner and Min Kean came in among 
the last, the former taking her place at Miss 
Cresswell’s table, sitting beside Elizabeth. 

“Why, Anna Cresswell,” she exclaimed, 
leaning forward, “did Miss Morgan put you 
at the head of the table?” 

“How else should I be here? You surely 
did not think I came unasked.” 

“Oh, no, I spoke without thinking. Of 
course, you would not come unless she asked 
you to do so. I was surprised, that was 
all.” 

“Why surprised? You know I am a 
Senior, and it is customary to give them the 
head.” 

“Oh, yes, of course. But there are Sen¬ 
iors who haven’t been given the head. 
That is what made me speak.” 

Miss Cresswell turned the conversation to 
other subjects. Elizabeth was the only new 


74 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


student at the table. She felt that some rea¬ 
son other than the one given had caused 
Miss Stoner to speak as she had. It was not 
until some days later that she learned that 
Landis was a Senior. She learned, too, 
that the girl was ambitious to be first, even 
in so slight a thing as sitting at the head 
of a table and playing hostess to five girls, 
generally of under classes. 

“Are you on the second floor again this 
year, Landis?” asked a little pink-and- 
white, china-doll girl from the foot of the 
table. 

“Yes, Mame. Min and I have the same 
rooms as before. The third time is the 
charm. I presume something good will 
happen this year.” 

“Perhaps Min will get through the pre¬ 
liminaries, ” was the rej oinder. “ She won’t 
pull through from any effort she makes her¬ 
self. If her friends wish to see her gradu¬ 
ate, they will be compelled to resort to some¬ 
thing. Get her to pick four-leafed clovers 
and wear them in the toe of her shoe, pos- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


75 


sibly. That has been known to work where 
all else fails.” 

Landis looked serious at the jest. Her 
manner grew quite self-assertive as she re¬ 
plied, as though expressing herself quite set¬ 
tled the question. Yet throughout there 
was an assumed self-deprecatory air, as 
though she would not have her hearers think 
she was either maligning her friend or laud¬ 
ing herself too highly in the comparison 
suggested in her speech. 

‘ 4 Don’t blame Min too much. Some work 
which would be possible for you or me, is 
impossible for her. I did not realize until 
we roomed together what a difference there 
can be in—in—minds. I could not have be¬ 
lieved that any one would consider a theo¬ 
rem or a page of French difficult. But,'” 
with an arch glance, “ these past two years 
have taught me a great deal. I am more 
sympathetic, and oh so much more thankful 
that I am—” 

“Not as ‘these publicans and sinners/ ” 
finished the girl at the foot. As she spoke, 


76 ELIZABETH HOBART 

her glance swept over the table to include 
among “these” all who sat there. 

Even Elizabeth, though a stranger, could 
not suppress a smile. 

“Who has No. 12—that big room, the one 
Miss Watson used to have?” continued Miss 
Welch, ignoring Landis’ show of vexation 
at her words. Landis made no attempt to 
answer, although the question was addressed 
to her. After a moment’s silence, a little 
German girl, Elizabeth’s vis-a-vis, replied, 
“If I have not heard it unright, Frau- 
lein—that is, Miss O’Day in it she will 
room.” 

She blushed prettily as she spoke, half in 
shyness and half in embarrassment that her 
German idioms would intrude themselves 
when she was trying to speak English. She 
looked up at Miss Cresswell, as though she 
sought encouragement from her. 

“Why, Miss Hirsch, what have you been 
doing all summer? Spending all your va¬ 
cation talking English? You have im¬ 
proved wonderfully. Now Fraulein Kron- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


77 


enberg will complain that you are losing 
your pure German accent.” 

“Oh, think you so? It is glad I am. A 
single German word the whole long summer 
have I not said. But about the room which 
on the second floor is; to me it was said Miss 
O’Day will—will—occupy? it.” 

“Who is to room with her?” asked Miss 
Welch. 

“I believe she is to room alone,” said Miss 
Cresswell. 

“Why doesn’t Maud Harris go back with 
her? They seemed to get along well last 
fall, and Maud is well enough to enter 
again!” said Miss Welch. 

“Miss Harris with anything could—what 
you call it?—get along,” said Miss Hirsch. 

“My words seem to suggest that Miss 
O’Day is difficult to get along with. I did 
not mean that. So far as I know, she has 
a very even temper, and is more than gen¬ 
erous with all her possessions. She isn’t 
selfish.” 

“I can plainly see why Maud has another 


78 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


roommate. Of course you all do. It does 
seem a little hard.” Here Landis’ manner 
grew important. Her head was raised, and 
her lips curled. “ But those of us who have 
a high sense of honor would not care to room 
with Miss O ’Bay. I hope I am not narrow¬ 
minded, but I feel that all my finer instincts 
rebel at the thought of-” 

“Miss Stoner, if you please, we will drop 
the subject. Nothing can be gained by 
carrying it further.” This came from Miss 
Cresswell. She spoke quietly but her man¬ 
ner and voice was that of one who expected 
to have her suggestions followed. 

Landis tilted her head a little higher, but 
her face flushed. She was about to tell Miss 
Cresswell that she would discuss any subject 
when and where she chose when she remem¬ 
bered suddenly that Miss Cresswell was the 
head of the table and the one to whom she 
must pay a certain amount of respect. 

The dinner had been brought in. Miss 
Cresswell served the plates with Maggie, the 
colored serving-maid, standing at her side. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


79 


All conversation of a personal nature 
stopped while the servants were in the room. 
When the dinner was over, and dessert on 
the table, the chatter began. 'As they were 
about to quit the room, a bell rang. Quiet 
fell upon them. Dr. Morgan arose from her 
place at the head table. 

She made a few general announcements. 
Then in her clear, decisive voice continued: 
‘‘The students will not forget that they are 
expected to dress for dinner. If you are too 
indisposed to change your school attire for 
something fresher, you are too indisposed to 
come to the dining-hall. But you will bear 
in mind that this does not mean either din¬ 
ner or reception gowns. Elaborate and ex¬ 
travagant dressing is not suited to girls in 
school. Miss O ’Day has infringed upon this 
rule. Consequently she may pass imme¬ 
diately to her apartments, change her gown, 
and spend the evening in her room, with¬ 
out conversing with anyone. You may be 
excused, Miss O’Day.” 

From a table at a distant part of the 


80 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


room, Miss O’Day arose. As she moved 
through the room with her head high and 
eyes straight before her, her shoulders 
and arms gleamed through their transpar¬ 
ent covering, and the rustle of her silken 
petticoats was audible. 

As she disappeared, Dr. Morgan gave the 
signal for dismissal. The hum of conversa¬ 
tion among the students began again, as in 
little groups they passed to the parlors or 
to the campus. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE RECEPTION. 

“What have you brought to fix up our 
quarters?” asked Miss Wilson, the day fol¬ 
lowing Elizabeth’s arrival at Exeter. Her 
trunk and box were in the middle of the 
study, while she and Miss Wilson stood and 
looked on as Jimmy Jordan unfastened 
straps and drew out nails. 

“I do not know,” was the reply. 
“Mother slipped in a whole box of extras. 
I wondered why she was doing it. She said 
I would see later. There were cups and 
spoons, and doilies.” 

‘ 4 Sensible mother, ’’ rejoined Miss Wilson. 
“She realizes the necessity of frequent 
spreads in the strenuous life we lead. No 
doubt we’ll find among your traps a glass or 
so of jelly, and some preserves. Mothers 
81 


82 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


who have been at school themselves appre¬ 
ciate the situation.” 

Elizabeth laughed. She was beginning to 
understand her roommate’s style of conver¬ 
sation. 

Miss Wilson was not one to shirk. Work 
had no terrors for her. She was never idle, 
but when she was tired with study she found 
rest in some other form of occupation. Now, 
while Elizabeth was unpacking, she assisted 
her in every way, putting in order bureau 
drawers, and arranging books. 

Elizabeth had depended more or less upon 
her mother. How much that “ more” was 
greater than that “less” she did not realize 
until she was alone. Miss Wilson proved 
her right hand now. 

The greater part of the day was spent in 
arranging their possessions. The pictures 
which Elizabeth had brought from home 
were hung; the bright cushions placed at a 
proper angle on the couch, over which had 
been placed a covering of gay tapestry. A 
table had been drawn up near the fireplace. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


83 


This was a new experience for Elizabeth 
so she let Miss Wilson take the lead. She 
watched her arrange the tea-table. The 
dainty cups and plates, souvenir spoons, 
sugar bowl and creamer found their proper 
places. It was a small edition of their din¬ 
ing-table at home. The chafing-dish and 
swinging kettle with its alcohol lamp were 
too much for Elizabeth to bear without com¬ 
ment. She must and did ask their purpose. 

“Ill show you in one minute,” said Mary. 
She took a box of cocoa and a bottle of al¬ 
cohol from a small cabinet. “I must bor¬ 
row some cream from Anna Cresswell. I 
saw her get some this morning. But first 
I must put this water on to boil.” She did 
so, then hurried from the room, soon return¬ 
ing with the cream. 

After stirring the cream, cocoa and sugar 
in the cup, she poured on the boiling water. 
With a few additional manipulations of the 
spoon, she held out the cup to Elizabeth. 
“Here, girlie, drink to the prosperity of Ex¬ 
eter Hall in general, and these quarters in 


84 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


particular. May you get along with your 
roommate better than people generally do, 
and may all the scraps between you and her 
be made up before the retiring-bell rings.” 

Elizabeth raised her cup to the toast, then 
drank. “Why, that is fine—and made with 
such a little fire! I would not have be¬ 
lieved it possible.” 

“You think that is good?” was the reply. 
“You will open your eyes when you see what 
can be done with the chafing-dish,—creamed 
oysters, fudge, soups of all kinds, Welsh 
rarebits. I hope, Elizabeth, that you spoke 
to your mother about boxes. At Exeter, 
boxes are acceptable at all times.” 

“Boxes?” in surprise. “No; I never 
mentioned the word to her. I didn’t under¬ 
stand that they would be required. The 
catalog made no mention of them. I know 
because I looked particularly about the num¬ 
ber of napkins and towels required. What 
do you put in them?” 

“I don’t know. It is what you take out 
of them that makes them valuable. Per- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


85 


sonally, I prefer roast chicken and cake.” 

44 Oh!’ ’ cried Elizabeth. 4 4 How dull I am! 
But you know that I was never before at 
any school, and I never knew any girls my 
own age.” 

44 They’ll teach you a lot,” was the re¬ 
sponse. 

4 4 You and father agree in that. He says 
that the students will teach me more than the 
faculty. But that is one of the things I can¬ 
not understand. ’ ’ 

44 You will sometime. I wouldn’t bother 
my head much about it now. What do you 
think about this Gibson head*? It doesn’t 
fit in here with the other pictures.” 

44 Let me try it on this side of the room,” 
Elizabeth replied, placing the picture at a 
better angle. 

So the day progressed in doing a score of 
little odds and ends of work which have the 
effect of making boarding-school quarters 
suggestive of home. 

Several weeks later Elizabeth had one les¬ 
son in what the girls could teach her, some- 


86 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


thing which was not found between the 
covers of books. At home, there had always 
been her mother to pick up after her. She 
might drop hat, gloves and coat anywhere 
about the house, and when she needed them, 
find them in their proper places, dusted, 
mended and ready for use. 

During the first week at Exeter, Mary 
Wilson unconsciously dropped into her 
mother’s place in this particular, perhaps 
because she was a year older than Elizabeth, 
and had learned this lesson in her own time. 
Certain it was, when they dressed for din¬ 
ner, she looked about the bedroom and put 
in order each article which was out of place, 
or called Elizabeth’s shortcomings to notice 
with, “Your dress will muss lying on that 
chair,” or “Is that your slipper in the study, 
or did I leave mine there?” 

During the month of October, the girls 
at Exeter gave their first reception. Guests 
came from all the little towns about, and the 
Hall was filled with flowers, lights and 
bright music. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


87 


Elizabeth and Mary had hurried from the 
dinner-table to get into their party gowns. 
Miss Wilson, as a Senior, was one of the re¬ 
ception-committee. Elizabeth was but half¬ 
way through with her dressing when Mary 
had finished. 

“There, Elizabeth, I’m done. Look me 
over and see if my waist is together all 
right.” 

Elizabeth was standing before the mirror, 
pins between her lips, trying to reduce a re¬ 
fractory bow to submission. She turned to 
look at her roommate. 44 Sweet—your dress 
is beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” was the response with a 
characteristic toss of her head. 4 4 With 
those pins in your mouth you talk like a 
dialect story. I’m off now. Dr. Morgan 
wishes the committee to meet in her par¬ 
lor. I suppose she wants to get our mouths 
into the 4 papa, potatoes, prunes and prisms’ 
shape before we meet the guests. I’m sorry 
I can’t go down with you, Elizabeth. A 
first reception is so trying. Nancy won’t go 


88 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


down until late. Suppose I ask her to wait 
for you?” 

“That may put her to trouble. I thought 
of asking Miss 0 ’Day to go with me. She’s 
just across the hall, and has no one special 
to go with her since she rooms alone.” 

Miss Wilson hesitated a moment, standing 
in the middle of the doorway. She looked 
quite serious at the mention of Miss O’Day. 

“Miss O’Day might—not like to be 
bothered. Besides, you do not know her 
very well. I’ll send Nancy.” 

With that she disappeared. 

As the- gaslight in the bedroom was not 
satisfactory Elizabeth went into the sitting- 
room or study, as the students were accus¬ 
tomed to call it, to finish her dressing. 
Nancy came to the door just as Elizabeth put 
on the last touches. 

“We’ll be late,” she exclaimed. “I think 
it’s fun to go early and meet all the strang¬ 
ers. Judge Wilson and his friends will be 
here if the train was on time at Ridgway.” 

Elizabeth caught up her fan and handker- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


89 


chief and started forth. Her attention was 
claimed by the curious fan Nancy carried. 

“It is odd, isn’t it?” exclaimed Nancy, 
unfurling it. “It is hand-carved. You 
know the Swedes are famous for that kind 
of work. This is quite old. My grand¬ 
father made it for my grandmother when 
they were sweethearts over in Sweden.” 

Elizabeth looked her surprise at this state¬ 
ment. Her companion noticed her expres¬ 
sion. 

“You knew, of course, that I was of 
Swedish birth?” 

“No, I did not. I knew that you made 
your home with Miss Wilson’s family. I 
took it for granted that you must be a rela¬ 
tive.” 

“Not the least bit,” was the response, 
given without a show of embarrassment. 
“I’m merely a dependent. My father was a 
Swedish minister, and worked among our 
people near the Wilson home. When he 
died, we were left with nothing to live on. 
Mother did sewing for the Swedish people. 


90 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


I was very strong and quite as able to work 
as she. So I went to live at the Wilson 
home where I helped with the little chil¬ 
dren and also went to school. I grew to love 
them, and they seemed to really care for me. 
When I finished the high school, Mrs. Wil¬ 
son sent me here. I’m to be a teacher after 
I graduate at Exeter. I always count the 
Wilson home mine. Each summer I go back 
there and help with the children while Mrs. 
Wilson takes a vacation.” 

She did not add that she had shown such 
an aptitude for study, and had proved so 
efficient and trustworthy that Mrs. Wilson 
had decided to give her the best advantages 
to fit her for a profession. 

As they passed the open door of the room 
occupied by Landis Stoner and Min Kean, 
the voices of the girls came to them. They 
had evidently taken it for granted that the 
other students had gone to the parlors and 
that there wasn’t anyone to hear the con¬ 
versation. 

“Well, for my part, Min,” Landis was 


AT EXETER HALL. 


91 


saying, “I do not think you look at all well 
in that blue silk. You look so sallow. You 
are so much sweeter in your white organdy 
with your pink sash.” 

“But, Landis, I’ve worn it so often.” 

“But not here. It will be new to the 
girls, and it looks perfectly fresh.” 

“You said you liked the blue silk when I 
was buying it.” 

“I did and I do yet, but it isn’t suited to 
you. Now for me, it would be all right, 
but—” 

“I wish you’d come down, Landis. I al¬ 
ways have a better time when you are 
there.” 

“How can I? I haven’t a dress for a re¬ 
ception. You simply cannot get a dress 
made at home fit to wear, and my staying up 
in the country all summer with you made 
my going to the city impossible.” 

That was all that reached the girls in the 
hall, and this was forced upon them. 
Nancy could not forbear a smile. Eliza¬ 
beth with the guilelessness of an unexperi- 


92 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


enced child exclaimed, 4 ‘Why, Landis seems 
to have so many beautiful clothes. Her 
father must be very wealthy. Her rings 
and pins are simply lovely. Isn’t that a 
diamond she wears?” 

“Yes; but it’s Min’s. Landis has been 
wearing it for the last two years. Min is an 
only child. She has no mother and her 
father, who is a millionaire oil-man, allows 
her to spend what she pleases.” 

“Is Landis’ father an oil-man?” 

“No, he isn’t,” was the reply. 

Elizabeth was learning how much could 
be said by silence. During her short ac¬ 
quaintance with Landis, the girl had sug¬ 
gested many of the possibilities of her 
future—a cruise on a private yacht, a year’s 
study and travel in Europe. She had not 
said that money was no consideration with 
her, yet Elizabeth had gained such an im¬ 
pression from her words. 

“I am sorry Landis will miss the recep¬ 
tion,” she said. 

Nancy smiled. “She will not miss it* 


AT EXETER HALL. 


93 


She enjoys the social side of school life too 
much to miss anything of this kind. She 
will be down after awhile.” 

“But you heard what she said—that she 
had nothing fit to wear/’ 

“But she will have—or has now. She 
will appear in a gown that puts all other 
dresses in the shade. Here we are. How 
fine the reception committee look. Poor 
Mary Wilson! this is hard for her. She’s 
doing her best not to toss back her hair and 
laugh.” 

As she spoke, they entered the parlors. 
Jimmy Jordan, arrayed in full dress, an¬ 
nounced their arrival to Dr. Morgan. 

The girls maintained a dignified and ele¬ 
gant composure until they reached the end 
of the line where Miss Wilson stood. 
Nancy’s appearance distracted her atten¬ 
tion from her social duties. 

“You’ve got too much powder on your 
nose, Nancy,” and with a flutter of her 
handkerchief, she made Nancy presentable. 
Then she remembered where she was. Her 


94 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


face flushed. She looked about her. Her 
words had carried across the room. The 
smiles of the committee about her were al¬ 
most audible. 

Elizabeth in company with Nancy moved 
through the room. “Here is someone I 
wish you to meet,” said Nancy, “that is, if 
you are really interested in people of strong, 
though peculiar character. She is a Miss 
Rice. She owns a little farm not far from 
where my father preached. She works the 
whole place herself.” 

They came up to Miss Rice, a woman far 
past middle age. Her features showed ex¬ 
posure to the sun. Her red-bronze hair was 
turning into a grizzled, faded gray. 

“I’m glad to meet Miss Hobart,” she said. 
“You are from Bitumen, I hear. I have 
planned to go there as soon as I get my po¬ 
tatoes in, and those odd chores done for the 
winter. I heard your father had a peculiar 
plant—something unusual hereabout.” 

Elizabeth repeated the story of his hav¬ 
ing found an odd seed in an importation of 


AT EXETER HALL. 


95 


tea and having planted it. Miss Rice’s con¬ 
versation was interesting. Her voice was 
full and melodious, but even Elizabeth who 
was used to the eccentricities of Miss Hale’s 
attire could not repress a smile. 

Miss Rice talked of the wheat blight and 
the damaging effects of potato-bugs, then 
with equal interest quoted Browning, and 
debated the question whether there was a 
present-day literature worthy of the name. 

“She’s a quaint character,” Miss Cress- 
well said later to Elizabeth. “She might 
have been independently rich, but she has no 
idea of the value of money, and she is the 
sort who always finds someone who needs it 
more than she. It’s been years since she’s 
had a respectable winter coat because she 
pledged herself to provide for several old 
ladies in the Home for the Friendless. She 
has a whole host of doless relatives, whom 
she props up whenever they need it, and,” as 
though an afterthought, “they always need 
it.” 

“Do you know if Landis is coming 


96 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


down?” asked Miss Kice a few moments 
later, turning to Elizabeth. “I really came 
purposely to see her. We’ve been a little 
uncertain about her finishing the year, but 
last week I sold four hundred bushels of po¬ 
tatoes. That means she can stay. She’ll be 
pleased, but no more than I’ll be. ” Then in 
a confidential tone, “When I was a girl, I 
didn’t have the advantages that I’m trying 
to give Landis. We were poor, and father 
and mother were getting on in years, and 
I couldn’t leave them. What I learned I 
dug out of books and other people’s minds. 
Julia Hale—you know her—got me inter¬ 
ested in botany, and someone else came along 
with a book or so. I was ambitious to go to 
Exeter, and then be a missionary. That 
seemed to be such a beautiful life of self-sac¬ 
rifice; but it seems it wasn’t to be. There 
never was a day when someone right there at 
home didn’t need me, so that after a while I 
didn’t ever have time to think of going. But 
there was Landis. I mean to prepare her 
well and send her in my place. When the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


97 


potatoes turned out better than I’d been 
counting on, I just sat down and laughed. 
Then I got ready and came down here to tell 
Landis. There she is now.” She arose, a 
trace of pleasurable excitement showing in 
her manner and lighting up her weather¬ 
beaten face, and moved to where Landis, 
radiant and self-confident, stood with Min 
and others of her satellites. 

Elizabeth’s eyes followed. She gave a 
little start of surprise at the sight. Min 
was wearing an organdy plainly showing 
signs of service, while Landis was arrayed 
in a handsome gown of soft blue silk. Eliza¬ 
beth knew not the reason for it, but as she 
looked at the girls she had a sensation of be¬ 
ing out-of-sorts, and at variance with the 
world. She might have given up to her 
feelings had not her roommate joined her. 
Mary’s eyes were a little brighter than 
usual. She was fairly bubbling over with 
excitement. 

“I’ve been looking almost everywhere for 
you, Elizabeth,” she cried, tucking her hand 


98 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


within Elizabeth’s arm, and leading her into 
a small room adjoining. “I want you to 
meet the best father and mother this coun¬ 
try ever produced.” 

“I’ve met them,” responded Elizabeth. 
“They are in Bitumen at this minute.” 

Mary laughed and gave her arm a 
squeeze. “You’re getting on, Elizabeth. 
A month ago you couldn’t have made such 
a remark. You were too literally literal. 
But as to the best parents; I have them shut 
up in this room.” 

“Not my parents,” decidedly. 

“I should say not. My own. Why 
should I be wanting anyone’s else?” 

They entered the room where a little 
group of the older guests had gathered. 
Leading Elizabeth to her father and mother, 
“This is Elizabeth,” Mary said. Both 
father and mother held out their hands to 
her. Elizabeth felt that they were not 
strangers. They knew of her father. She 
was very glad to note the tone in which all 
people spoke of him. Nothing was said of 


AT EXETER HALL. 


99 


his being a brilliant man, although he had 
been that, but all spoke of him as a good 
man and doing good work. 

“The liquor people are getting it strong 
up your way, Judge,” said a little old man 
in the group. “What is going to happen 
to our friend Bill?” 

“It has happened,” responded Mr. Wil¬ 
son. “We finished him Friday morning— 
a year and six months in the workhouse.” 

Elizabeth looked about her in surprise. 
Miss Cresswell was near her. “Is Mary 
Wilson’s father that famous Judge Wil¬ 
son?” she asked. 

“Yes, didn’t you know it?” 

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. “How 
should I know?” she said, sinking back into 
her chair as though overcome by the news, 
“No one told me,” she continued, “and 
Mary herself never mentioned it.” 

“Why should she?” was the response. 
“She is so used to his honors that she thinks 
nothing at all about them.” 

“Isn’t it strange,” said Elizabeth, having 


100 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


slowly awakened to the condition of affairs 
in the little world about her, “that it seems 
to he the people who have the least and do 
the least that make the most fuss?” 

“One thing Exeter has taught you?” said 
Miss Cresswell with a smile. “The little 
tugs must make a noise or they may be run 
down, but the big liners are confident of 
their own power and so is everyone.” 

But Elizabeth had not heard this last re¬ 
mark. She was leaning eagerly forward 
listening to the conversation among the 
others. Judge Wilson was explaining to 
those who were interested what Big Bill 
Kyler had done to justify a year and a half 
in jail. 

“You see,” the Judge said, “all the land 
at Italee and Gleasonton belong to Mrs. 
Gleason. She won’t sell, and leases and 
rents only under certain conditions. All 
renters are her husband’s workmen. I sup¬ 
pose there’s seven or eight hundred in the 
tannery and brickyard. She won’t permit 
a licensed hotel on her land. Big Bill 


AT EXETER HALL. 


101 


drives across the country, loads his wagon 
whh contraband goods and retails them 
from his house. This is all on the quiet. I 
reckon he’s carried this on for six months. 
But some time in August, Mrs. Gleason had 
his wagon stopped with the result,” with a 
wave of his hand, “Bill is living at the ex¬ 
pense of the State.” 

“A pretty smart woman, Mrs. Gleason.” 
This remark came from the little old man 
in the corner. 

“Very, but she would never have discov¬ 
ered this if someone had not given her a 
pointer; for Big Bill outwardly was an ad¬ 
vocate of temperance.” 

“I am out of patience with the way in 
which justice errs,” cried Mrs. Wilson, in 
the same spirited, sprightly way her daugh¬ 
ter might have done. “We all know that 
Big Bill is not accountable. He has always 
been the tool of anyone who would make use 
of him. I doubt if he made any money by 
this work. There was^ a shrewder man 
back of him who planned this and took the 


102 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


money. And that man is the one who 
should be punished.” 

“Undoubtedly,” responded the Judge. 
“But that man is shrewd enough to keep 
himself out of the toils. He has a whole¬ 
sale license to sell at Westport. He does 
not obligate himself to question his buyers. 
He may ask Big Bill a trifle more than 
anyone else, but that is no infringement of 
the law. I think there was no doubt in any¬ 
one’s mind who was the instigator of this 
‘speak-easy’ business at Italee; but he was 
shrewd enough to keep within the letter of 
the law. We could not touch him, and he 
knew it.” 

“The whole business is nefarious! It is 
the curse of our country.” 

Judge Wilson smiled back at his wife. 
She was always so decided in her opinions, 
so fearless in expressing them. 

“To be sure, to be sure,” he responded 
calmly. “Most of us acknowledge that, but 
we have power only to interpret and judge. 
The people make the laws.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


103 


“I think this talk is a trifle too heavy for 
a boarding-school reception/ ’ exclaimed a 
young matron. “I shall return to the 
reception hall and listen to the chatter of 
schoolgirls. I haven’t outgrown my taste 
for it.” She laughed and passed into the 
adjoining room. 

Her remark lead to the general breaking 
up of the little group. “We had better go 
back to the younger set,” was the sentiment 
of the elders. 

“You must slip up now and see how nice 
our rooms look,” cried Mary Wilson, cling¬ 
ing to her father and mother. “Elizabeth 
brought so many pretty things from home, 
our rooms look quite fine.” 

“Yes; do come,” said Elizabeth. “We’ll 
make you a cup of cocoa—or Mary will. I 
haven’t reached such a high state of perfec¬ 
tion that I make it for company.” 

“Well, just for one moment then,” said 
Mrs. Wilson. “We must not stay long, 
enough to be missed. Mrs. Williams, will 
you and your husband come with us? We 



104 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


are going up to see the girls’ rooms. They 
tell me that they are very fine.” 

Mrs. Williams gladly accepted. She was 
a little old Quaker lady, in Quaker garb, 
neat as the proverbial pin, and with the 
appearance of having just stepped from 
some old painting. 

“It has been so many years since I have 
seen a schoolgirl’s room,” she said, “that I 
should love to see Mary’s. In my day ours 
were plain—painted floors and wooden beds. 
It was not allowable to have aught else; but 
we were taught to be orderly—too much so, 
I thought.” 

“Dr. Morgan is particular about that. 
Mrs. Schuyler is preceptress, but she works 
under Dr. Morgan’s orders,” said Mrs. Wil¬ 
son. 

“That is well. Book knowledge means 
little if a woman is untidy and careless,” 
was the response. 

Elizabeth and Mary, far in the rear, act¬ 
ing as body-guard to the Judge, did not hear 
these remarks on neatness. To Mary it 


AT EXETER HALL. 


105 


would have mattered little, for her con¬ 
science was clear so far as keeping her pos¬ 
sessions in order was concerned. 

“Oh, father, wait just one second,” she 
cried. “There is Miss Watson from 
Muncy. I must speak with her, and ask her 
to go with us. She was at a German Uni¬ 
versity all last year.” She hurried away, 
and soon returned with a distinguished- 
looking young woman Avhom she introduced 
as Miss Watson. “She is going up with 
us,” explained Miss Wilson, “to have a cup 
of cocoa. Oh, yes,” as Miss Watson was 
about to demur, “we have eight cups now. 
Do you remember the time two years ago 
when I invited the girls in and forgot that 
I hadn’t dishes enough? Yes; I have the 
same rooms but they’re much nicer. We 
have so many new things that I’m sure you 
will not recognize them. Miss Hobart is 
my roommate. We have gotten along 
famously so far—haven’t had the smallest 
kind of a difficulty. I’m sure we’ll so con¬ 
tinue, for I always think the first month is 


106 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


the hardest. We had to learn to adjust our¬ 
selves to each other. But there is no dan¬ 
ger of a quarrel now. We have passed our 
rocks.” 

“Knock on wood, Mary,” called back her 
father on hearing the remark, “that will 
exorcise the evil spirit of assurance. 
Knock on wood, I say, or you and Elizabeth 
will quarrel before the week is out.” 

Mary tossed her head and laughed. She 
thoroughly appreciated her father’s witti¬ 
cisms. 

“I shall not knock on wood—and we will 
not quarrel,” she replied. “That is our 
room, mother. Yes; right there.” 

Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Wilson passed 
into the bedroom. The others of the party 
followed. Elizabeth and Mary at the end 
of the line had stepped aside to give prece¬ 
dence to the elders. 

They heard Judge Wilson laugh. “It 
has been nothing less than a cyclone,” he 
said, then laughed again. 

“Why, this is not at all like Mary!” be- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


107 


gan Mrs. Wilson. Mary noticed the tone 
of apology in her voice. 

She and Elizabeth stepped inside. Eliza¬ 
beth’s face grew crimson. In the middle of 
the floor lay her school shoes which, in her 
haste to dress, she had kicked off and left. 
Her coat and hat were on one chair. 
Stretched out on the end of the couch was 
her gym suit, glaringly conspicuous with its 
crimson braid. Every toilet article that she 
had used was in evidence, and in a place 
never designed for its occupancy. 

Miss Wilson arose to the occasion. With 
a characteristic toss of the head, she crossed 
the room and drew forward a chair. “Sit, 
all of you, and I’ll put the kettle to boil for 
cocoa. Father, tell your story about the 
boy illustrating ‘The Old Oaken Bucket.’ ” 
She lighted the alcohol lamp while she was 
talking. She made no apology for the dis¬ 
order of the room. One might suppose 
from her manner that all was as the most 
fastidious might desire. 

Elizabeth sat quietly in the background, 


108 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


hoping that no one would speak to her. 
Her face was burning. There was a dim¬ 
ness about her eyes suggestive of tears. 

Missing her, Mrs. Wilson turned about. 
“Where is Elizabeth?” she asked. “Did 
she not come with us?” 

“Yes; I came,” said a voice choking with 
tears. “I’m here—and oh, I am so 
ashamed. Not one of those articles scat¬ 
tered about are Mary’s. They’re all mine. ’’ 
At this she could no longer restrain herself, 
but began to cry. 

Both Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Wilson 
would have consoled her with well chosen 
words of sympathy. The men laughed and 
declared that they were so accustomed to 
dropping their shoes in the middle of the 
floor that they had not recognized the signs 
of disorder; that they supposed that the 
floor was the legitimate place for shoes. 
But treating the matter lightly did not rid 
Elizabeth of her shame and embarrassment. 
She was unable to control herself. Slip¬ 
ping into the bedroom, she threw herself 


AT EXETER HALL. 


109 


face downward on the pillow and sobbed 
herself to sleep. 

When she awakened, she found that the 
guests and Miss Wilson had departed. She 
prepared for bed and was standing in her 
night clothes when Mary came back into the 
room, a tearful little maiden. But Miss 
Wilson was unmoved. 

“I’m so sorry and—ashamed,” began 
Elizabeth. 

“You should be,” was the unfeeling re¬ 
sponse. 

“It shall never happen so again,” con¬ 
tritely. 

“I’m sure it will not, for after this I’ll 
see to it that the room is in order after you 
get through dressing.” 

“Oh, Mary, don’t be so hard. Won’t 
you forgive me? I’m sure I’m ashamed 
enough.” 

“It is no use talking further about it,” 
was the grim response. “The thing’s done 
and cannot be undone by any amount of 
talking. You mortified me before my best 


110 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


friends, and I can not forget it soon. 
When I can, I’ll tell you. But please don’t 
mention the subject to me again.” 

That was all, but it was enough. Eliza¬ 
beth crept into bed and turned her face to 
the wall. She had no desire to cry now. 
Anger and grief were holding equal places 
with her. 

She was too young and healthy and sleepy 
to stay awake long. She had been sleeping 
uneasily when she awoke from a horrible 
nightmare. She had dreamed that a most 
formidable array of shoes and stockings, 
hats and coats in the form of grinning spec¬ 
tres were hovering about her ready to seize 
her. When she was wide awake, she re¬ 
membered the cause of her dream. She re¬ 
membered, too, that she had not put the 
sitting-room in order. 

Crawling softly from bed, she crept into 
the study. It seemed as though each chair, 
in a conspiracy to make her efforts difficult, 
stood in her path. She turned on the gas 
and gathered together her possessions. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


Ill 


Then she crept back to her nest again, hop¬ 
ing that the spectres of her negligence 
would not haunt her. 




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CHAPTER V. 


A BOX FROM HOME. 

For some days the relations between Eliz¬ 
abeth and her roommate were strained. 
No further words concerning the order of 
the room passed between them, but each 
time they dressed, whether for breakfast or 
dinner, Miss Wilson made a point of look¬ 
ing about both rooms to see that each article 
was as it should be. The very calmness of 
her manner was exasperating. Elizabeth 
was hurt more by it than by words. She 
paid no attention to Mary’s vain efforts, for 
they had grown to be vain, as Elizabeth was 
keeping the tightest kind of a rein on her¬ 
self. 

Each article of dress was hung in its prop¬ 
er place as it left her hand. Each pencil 
went back to the pencil-holder even when 
113 


114 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


she intended using it in a few minutes. 
She did not grant herself a second’s grace. 
Her efforts were untiring during the first 
and second week. Many times she went 
hack from the door of the class-room to be 
sure that every article in her room was 
where it should be. 

Gradually she formed the habit of being 
orderly. It was but a few weeks until she 
discovered that she put her clothes away 
without thinking about it. She discovered, 
too, that she was actually saving time in not 
having to hunt for anything. 

Mrs. Schuyler, the preceptress, generally 
looked in upon the rooms while the girls 
were at class. She was a dainty little wid¬ 
ow, with a manner which she supposed to 
be pleasant and ingratiating but which the 
girls termed monotonously servile. Her 
expression was so exceedingly pleasant that 
the students named her Mrs. Smiles. 

One Saturday morning as she made her 
daily rounds, she found both Elizabeth and 
Mary in their rooms. 


AT EXETER HALL. 115 

Miss Hobart, I must speak with you, ” 
she said, sweeping in, the long train of her 
black house gown trailing after her. “I 
wish to commend you on the improvement 
you have made in keeping your apartments 
in order. It has been weeks since I have 
found an article out of place on your dress¬ 
er; and your closet has been in excellent 
order.” 

“You are very kind to tell me so,” was 
the response. “But I take little credit to 
myself for the improvement. I’ve had 
such an example and mentor always before 
me that I could scarce be anything else but 
improved.” 

Miss Wilson stood by but gave no indica¬ 
tion of hearing the remark until Mrs. 
Smiles, smiling and bowing, dragged her 
train from the room. Then she turned to 
Elizabeth. 

“I scarcely expect you’ll forgive me 
for the way I spoke that evening. But 
I was provoked and—and—humiliated. 


lie 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Miss Watson has always been my ideal and 
I did wish her to see me at my best.” 

“I think she did. You were all that could 
be expected of a girl. The Sphinx itself 
could not have been more outwardly calm. 
I fancy Miss Watson went away in admira¬ 
tion of your self-control. If I remember, 
I was the only one who appeared to disad¬ 
vantage.” 

There was a trace of bitterness in the 
girl’s voice, for in spite of her effort to for¬ 
get, the hurt of that evening still rankled 
within her. 

“Now, Elizabeth, please do not speak in 
that tone. I was sorry for my words that 
evening the moment I spoke. But I am 
hasty. I try my best to keep quiet when 
I’m angry; but now and then I express my¬ 
self before I realize it. You can’t expect 
perfection in anyone. A quick temper is 
my besetting sin. I try to overcome it; but 
until I do my friends must bear with me. 
No one is perfection.” 

“Indeed,” was the reply, “I’m rather 


AT EXETER HALL. 117 

surprised that you hold such an opinion. 
From the way you spoke that evening, 
I could not have judged you to be so lib¬ 
eral.” 

Miss Wilson knew her words were 
wasted. With a quick, impulsive move¬ 
ment she crossed the room to where Eliza¬ 
beth stood, and throwing her arms about 
her, cried out, “You must not talk like that, 
Elizabeth. You are not naturally sarcastic. 
Let me be the disagreeable one—if one there 
must be.” 

She drew Elizabeth’s head down, kissing 
her warmly. It was impossible to be vexed 
long with such a whole-souled, impulsive 
girl as Miss Wilson. Elizabeth smiled and 
relented. From that time matters between 
the two moved smoothly as at first; but 
Elizabeth did not relax her vigilance. She 
realized how others might be inconven¬ 
ienced and mortified by her carelessness. 
From an economical point of view, too, it 
was better to reform; for she had lost much 
time, and been tardy at class frequently on 


118 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


account of having to hunt for some needed- 
article. 

This week proved to he one of the most 
eventful of Elizabeth’s school year. She 
did not plan to go home for Thanksgiving. 
The Saturday previous she received a box 
from her mother. It was filled with all the 
good things a mother’s heart could devise 
and a cook’s skillful hands make ready. 
Miss Wilson carried the news of the arrival 
of the box to Elizabeth. 

“The expressman’s on his way up with 
an immense box,” she cried, tossing back 
her hair, and talking as excitedly as though 
Exeter Hall were governed by a Board of 
Starvation. 

Elizabeth hurried to the door. The 
expressman was already there, with about 
as much as he could carry. 

Mary, as usual, arose to the occasion. 
She assisted to unpack. She expressed the 
proper amount of enthusiasm and admira¬ 
tion at each edible as it was brought forth. 
When the contents had been properly dis- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


119 


posed of on every available window-sill, 
study-table and on the floor close to the wall 
where they would not be in the way of pass¬ 
ing feet, she arose from her knees before 
the empty box. “You’ll have the spread 
to-night, I suppose. Some of the girls will 
be away to-morrow.” 

Elizabeth had been long enough at Exeter 
to learn the meaning of that magic word 
“spread.” There are receptions, socials 
and spreads, but the greatest of these are 
spreads. A spread means slipping through 
dimly lighted corridors long after the retir¬ 
ing-bell has sounded its last warning; it 
means bated breaths, whispers and sup¬ 
pressed giggles. Its regalia is dressing- 
gowns or kimonos with bedroom slippers. 
It means mysterious knocks at the hostess’ 
door; a hurried skirmish within; and when 
it is found that one of the enlightened is 
rapping for admission, there is a general 
exodus from closets, from behind window 
draperies and from beneath study-tables. 

Spreads have never been prohibited. In- 


120 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


deed, it is generally understood that the 
faculty would gladly grant permission for 
them, if the time and place were opportune. 
But never in the history of school-life has 
permission been asked. With permission 
granted, a spread would not be a spread. 
It would be a mere lunch—an opportunity 
to partake of delicacies. 

Elizabeth’s eyes grew big at Mary’s sug¬ 
gestion. “We’ll have it to-night,” she ex¬ 
claimed, “ after the lights are out. Do you 
think we could have it here? Mrs. Smiles 
is at the end of the hall. We’ll have to be 
so careful.” 

“So much the more fun. A spread is 
supposed to be risky, else it would not be a 
spread. Whom will you invite?” 

Elizabeth began to name them on her fin¬ 
gers. “Anna Cresswell, Landis, Min, 
Marne Welch, and Miss O’Day.” Her ac¬ 
quaintance with the last-named student had 
not progressed far enough to permit calling 
her by her first name. As far as Miss 
O’Day was concerned, the Exeter girls knew 


AT EXETER HALL. 


121 


not friendship. Elizabeth could see that 
the girl herself made no advances. From 
her attitude, it was impossible to judge 
whether she was proud or shy. Scarcely 
the latter, for she carried herself with a 
self-poise which was suggestive of confi¬ 
dence. Elizabeth had not learned the cause 
of the estrangement between her and the 
other students. No one had ventured an 
explanation to her and she would not ask. 
Now at the mention of her name, Miss Wil¬ 
son grew dignified—a sure sign that she 
was half angry. 

“I wouldn’t ask her,” she said. 

“Why not?” 

“Oh, s im ply because I wouldn’t. None 
of the girls ever invite her, or haven’t for 
the last year.” 

“Oh, well, no doubt I do a great many 
things which none of the other girls do, so 
I might as well do this. I don’t object to 
being a little odd.” 

“Well, if you do—if you take Nora 


122 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


O’Day up and make a friend of her, the 
other girls will surely cut you.” 

“Cut me?” exclaimed Elizabeth, for the 
first time in her life fairly indignant. Her 
pride was aroused. “Cut me? Well, let 
that be as they choose. They’ll not have 
the opportunity, for I can let them as 
severely alone as they do Nora O’Day. If 
I cannot invite whom I please to my spread 
without asking the advice of a dozen other 
girls, then I’ll not have it at all. I don’t 
know and don’t wish to know why you girls 
snub Miss O’Day. As far as I can see, 
she acts quite as well as some others at 
Exeter.” 

“We don’t snub her, at least I have never 
done so. I treat her with conventional 
courtesy.” 

“Conventional courtesy! Deliver me 
from it, then. Why, the thermometer falls 
below zero whenever she comes where you 
girls are together. I know no evil of her. 
She has always treated me nicely, and I 
shall treat her so. When I discover that 


AT EXETER HALL. 


123 


she is not fit to associate with, then Ill let 
her alone.” 

“But, Elizabeth, if you only knew!” 

“But I don’t know and I don’t want to 
know.” Mary hesitated. She was not 
tempted to tell Elizabeth the whole story of 
the year before. She was never tempted to 
tell news or bruit from one student to an¬ 
other what was no concern of hers. She 
hesitated because she was uncertain whether 
it paid to carry the discussion further. 
After a moment’s thought, she decided that 
much talking would not be effective. 

“Very well, Elizabeth, do as you please. 
Ask anyone you choose. Of course the 
spread is yours. But if you ask Nora 
O ’Bay, you may expect to find me occupied 
at that time. Landis will not mind if I go 
over to her rooms. I’m off now to geom¬ 
etry! Of course, I’ll help you get ready 
and all that.” 

With this parting shot, she quitted the 
room. Elizabeth had a vacant period fol¬ 
lowing, a time generally devoted to looking 


124 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


over her work. To-day she employed it in 
reviewing her conversation with Mary Wil¬ 
son. She was gradually awakening to the 
knowledge that a certain independence of 
thought and action was necessary if one 
would not become a mere tool used by each 
and all of her friends. At Bitumen, her 
parents and Miss Hale had influenced her. 
But there had been such a sweet unselfish¬ 
ness in all they did, such an evidence that 
they were working for her good, that Eliza¬ 
beth had allowed their will to become her 
own. As she considered the matter now, 
she could remember no instance when she 
had been conscious of feeling that any other 
course of action save that which they sug¬ 
gested would have been pleasing to her. 
She was fond of her roommate. Mary had 
helped her over many a little difficulty in 
regard to classes and gym work. She was 
one of those whole-souled girls who was 
more than ready and willing to divide both 
her good times and her possessions. 

Elizabeth had not become so interested in 


AT EXETER HALL. 


125 


Miss O ’Day that her presence at the spread 
would cause her any great pleasure. Had 
Mary Wilson not shown such a spirit of 
authority, such a desire to have her own will 
in this, Elizabeth would have dropped the 
matter without a thought. But now she 
felt that she would ask Miss O’Day. If she 
did so, she would be an independent person; 
if she did not, she would be doing merely 
as her roommate wished, in a blind way, 
without knowing the reason for her action. 

While she was pondering the matter, 
there came back to her the words her father 
had spoken when he had planned to send her 
to school. “The girls will teach you more 
than any of the faculty.” There was one 
thing they would teach her, she decided 
instantly, and that was to form her own 
opinions of people, and to follow out her 
own course of action. She would ask Miss 
O’Day to her spread. Mary Wilson could 
come or stay away just as she chose. Mary 
should decide that matter for herself. 

When once Elizabeth made a decision, 


126 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


there was no dilly-dallying, no going back 
and wondering if she had done the right 
thing. Taking np her pencil, she began to 
jot down the names of those to be invited. 
Nora O’Day’s name headed the list with 
Azzie Hogan’s tagged on at the last. The 
majority of the girls were at class. Her 
only opportunity for seeing them was im¬ 
mediately before dinner or during study- 
hour in the evening, providing Mrs. Smiles 
did not keep too close a watch. 

She wondered what Mary Wilson would 
think of asking Azzie Hogan. Azzie did 
not take advantage of the social privileges 
of Exeter. Azzie was a genius—a boarding 
student who put in all her time with music 
—who sat for hours producing the most 
marvelous tones from instruments where 
other girls drew discords—who would sit all 
day at the piano, and not find the time long; 
and who spent her leisure in dawdling over 
sofas, or playing practical jokes on every 
one about her. She was a long-limbed, fair¬ 
haired girl, with a touch of wit from some 


AT EXETER HALL. 127 

remote ancestor who must have had O’ 
tacked to his name, and a great inaptitude 
toward books. She could play. Exeter 
had never before boasted such skill as hers. 
Her fame had spread over the state. But 
other lessons were impossible. 

The subject of the guests was not brought 
up again between the roommates. Mary 
had a successful interview with the matron, 
and returned to her rooms with cream for 
cocoa, and a few forks and spoons, borrow¬ 
ing cups and plates from the girls in the 
hall. Elizabeth had a class late in the after¬ 
noon. When she came back she found the 
work she planned already done. She 
started off immediately to issue her invita¬ 
tions. 

The rooms occupied by Min and Landis 
were nearest her own. She stopped there 
first. She found the girls busy, Landis at 
the study-table, putting the last touches to 
a composition for the following day’s rhe¬ 
toric. Min was sitting on a low chair by 
the window, sewing braid on the bottom of 


128 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


a dress-skirt. Unconsciously, Elizabeth 
gave the article in Min’s hand a second 
glance, and recognized it as the skirt Landis 
generally wore to class. 

Landis, whose eye was quick to note all 
that occurred in her presence, caught the 
second glance. “Isn’t Min good?” she 
asked. “She is putting a new braid on my 
everyday skirt. I caught my heel in it yes¬ 
terday and ripped the binding almost off. 
If there is one piece of work which I detest 
above another, it is putting on braids.” 

“How about Min?” asked Elizabeth. 
“Does she enjoy it?” 

“She doesn’t dislike it,” was the re¬ 
sponse. “She likes to be busy, and is quite 
as content to be at that as at some of the 
greater things of life. Min does that for 
me, and I’m left free to do a line of work 
which would not claim her.” As she spoke, 
she arose and moved from the table. Be¬ 
fore doing so, she was careful to lay a book 
across the top of the page on which she had 
been writing. She might have placed it 


AT EXETER HALL. 129 

there to keep the papers from being scat¬ 
tered over the room, but it looked more as 
though she placed it in a position to hide the 
title. She sank down in a low chair beside 
Elizabeth and watched Min work. Her 
speech impressed her hearer that she was 
doing work of so high an order that com¬ 
mon spirits like her own could not compre¬ 
hend. Elizabeth had heard Landis make 
such reference before, but after having 
talked with Miss Rice, she concluded that 
Landis, when speaking in her own peculiar 
way, had in mind the life of a missionary 
which was to be hers on leaving school. 
Elizabeth had a great reverence for re¬ 
ligion. So while Landis made these 
speeches, she listened with becoming atten¬ 
tion. 

But Min, to whom all things were mate¬ 
rial, and the nearest point the only one 
seen, blurted out in her slow, uncompre¬ 
hending way, “ Yes, I’d much rather sew on 
a binding than to do the work Landis does. 
What one of us likes to do, the other one 


130 ELIZABETH HOBART 

don’t. So we fit fairly well as roommates. 
This noon when she was complaining about 
the mending she must do, I told her I’d do 
it all if she’d get my thesis ready for to¬ 
morrow. We have a discussion on the Lit¬ 
erature of the Elizabethan Period. As 
though I could write a thousand words on 
that! So we traded off.” 

A flush had come to Landis’ cheek while 
her roommate talked. She stopped her as 
quickly as was consistent with tact. When 
once Min started it was impossible to tell 
when she would stop. 

“Tell Elizabeth about the trip your father 
is planning,” said Landis, breaking into 
Min’s discourse. 

But Elizabeth arose, declaring that she 
had no time to stay longer; she had merely 
stopped in to ask them both to come to her 
room for a spread that evening, any time 
after the lights were out. 

“A box from home!” exclaimed Min. 
“Isn’t that lovely'? That is what it means 
to have a mother! Our housekeeper is as 


AT EXETER HALL. 


131 


kind as can be and would be only too glad 
to send me a box if sbe thought of it. But 
that is the difference, a mother would think. 
If father was there, I’d go home to-mor¬ 
row. But he won’t be, so I would rath¬ 
er stay here than be in that big house 
alone with servants. Landis has an invi¬ 
tation to go out into the country for din¬ 
ner. I’m sure I’d go if I were she. Miss 
Bice has asked her to come but she won’t 
go.” 

“I do not think it would be kind to leave 
Min alone,” she said, as though that were 
her sole motive in staying. 

“Miss Rice!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I 
know her. I met her the evening of the 
reception.” 

“Quite a character, isn’t she?” responded 
Landis, as she might have spoken of one 
with whom she had but a passing acquaint¬ 
ance, instead of one on whom she was de¬ 
pending for all she had. “I often think she 
would make an admirable character for a 
novel. If my talent ran in that direction, 


132 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


I would certainly put Betty Rice in a 
book.” 

“Isn’t she related to you?” asked Eliza¬ 
beth in that innocent way which springs 
from the heart of one who has no guile and 
does not suspect others. 

Landis drew down her eyebrows and pon¬ 
dered as though she were figuring out just 
what the relation was. The impression her 
manner gave to one who was merely a cas¬ 
ual observer was that she deliberated and 
thought before speaking in order that her 
statements might not deviate by a hair¬ 
breadth from justice and truth. 

“I was just trying to think if she really 
were related at all or if we call her so from 
mere courtesy. If she be related to us, it 
is so distant that I cannot explain it. I 
fancy we call her so without any blood ties 
at all. You know how it is with a family 
like ours—in fact all English families of the 
upper class. We’ve lived in one place for 
generations, and always have played the 
Lady Bountiful to the poorer folk until they 


AT EXETER HALL. 


133 


grow to believe they have a claim upon us. 
Betty Bice is not the only one of these 
hangers-on. But I’m not complaining. 
She’s a good soul and always does her best. 
I really have a fondness for her. You can 
be sure that so long as I have a home Betty 
shall have one too.” 

Min Kean had never talked with Miss 
Bice or Miss Bice’s friends. She forthwith 
expressed her admiration of Landis’ noble 
generosity of spirit and purse* 

Elizabeth’s lack of experience in meeting 
with people made her slow to comprehend 
and compare. Although she remembered 
Miss Bice’s statements made the evening of 
the reception, and now heard those made by 
Landis, she did not reach a conclusion in 
regard to them. It was not until weeks 
later that her mind sifted these conflicting 
ideas, placing and ticketing each in its 
proper relation. 

“But about the spread! You’ll 
come?” 

“It’s useless to ask such a question! Of 


134 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


course we’ll come. We have never been 
known to miss a spread.” 

The other girls accepted with the same 
readiness. It was not until Azzie was 
reached that any uncertainty arose. 

Azzie was at the piano when Elizabeth 
found her. “It depends,” she replied. “If 
Smiles will allow me to do overtime this 
evening, I won’t be able to come. I’ll be 
too tired. If she’s cranky and locks up the 
music room, I’ll come.” 

‘ ‘ Then I hope she ’ll be cranky. We want 
you,” was the response. 

“I don’t. Professor Yan Buren gave me 
the sweetest thing to-day—a little German 
composition. I want to work on it. It 
isn’t hard, but the runs need practice.” 
She turned back to her music. 

Elizabeth went on to find Miss O’Day. 
Their acquaintance had not gone beyond 
that of class-room meetings and hall chats. 
She had never visited the girl’s rooms. 
She was surprised at their beauty and ele¬ 
gance. All the Exeter girls had comfort- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


135 


able apartments, but this surpassed any¬ 
thing else at the Hall. The draperies be¬ 
tween the doors were of imported India ma¬ 
terial ; her tea-table showed many pieces of 
Royal Worcester; her extra chairs were of 
fine cabinet woods. The occupant of the 
room was seated in a low chair by the fire. 
She was already dressed for dinner. Since 
the evening Dr. Morgan had sent her to her 
room because she had appeared in a low- 
necked gown, her dressing had been less 
elaborate, yet by no means could it be called 
simple. 

Her hands were covered with rings. Her 
hair was piled high in quite the fashion of a 
grown-up woman. It was more noticeable, 
perhaps, because the younger students at 
Exeter wore their hair in girlish fashion. 

She arose to greet Elizabeth, shaking her 
by the hand and leading her to a chair. 
She was pleased that Elizabeth had called, 
yet her manner had a certain icy courtesy 
about it which made her guest ill at ease. 

“This is the first time you have come to 


136 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


see me,” she said. “But I am glad you 
have come at last. Sit here. This low 
chair is the most comfortable. ’’ 

“I haven’t time,” said Elizabeth. Nev¬ 
ertheless she took the proffered chair. 
“Tour rooms are beautiful, Miss O’Day,” 
she said. “As you say, this is the first time 
I have been in them, but I had caught 
glimpses from the hall of your pretty 
draperies and chairs. Your tea-table is a 
dream.” 

“Why haven’t you come in before and 
seen it close at hand?” she asked. 

Elizabeth knew no polite way of evading 
the question. She was not skilled in the 
little methods of saying much and meaning 
little. 

“You never came to see me,” she replied, 
“and I fancied you did not care to have me 
come, though you have always been very 
pleasant when I have met you in the hall. 
But I supposed if you wanted to know 
me better, you would have come to see 
me.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


137 


A peculiar expression passed over the 
hearer’s face. She gave Elizabeth a quick, 
questioning glance, as though she doubted 
the good faith of this statement. But the 
glance satisfied her that her visitor was not 
acting a part. She leaned forward as 
though to warm her hands at the grate. In 
reality, she was taking time to consider well 
her words before she spoke. 

“I really wished to call on you,” she 
said, “but hesitated lest I intrude. Your 
roommate, Miss Wilson, would not be at all 
pleased to have me. That is why I did not 
call.” 

“But the rooms are half mine! She 
would have nothing at all to do with my 
callers. Surely that was a queer sort of 
reason to keep away.” 

“That was the first reason. Then there 
was another. How should I know that you 
would receive me? One girl influences an¬ 
other so. I knew Miss Wilson did not wish 
me to come. How was I to know that she 
had not filled your mind so with school gos- 


138 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


sip that you, too, would be glad to have me 
keep at a distance ?” 

The girl’s manner of speaking was pecul¬ 
iar. It was difficult to understand whether 
she were hiding her arrogant pride by an as¬ 
sumption of humility or whether she truly 
felt that her calls would not be looked upon 
with favor. Her manner was not easy at 
any time. It was marked by a self-con¬ 
sciousness that gave her companions the im¬ 
pression that the little courtesies from well- 
bred people were something new to her. 

Elizabeth flared up at her words. “Do 
you think I’m a handful of putty,” she 
asked, “to be moulded any way my compan¬ 
ions choose ? I form my own opinions. So 
long as you treat me fairly, I would do the 
same by you. But really, you do Mary an 
injustice. She never told me anything 
against you. Of course, I knew there was 
some feeling that was not altogether 
friendly between you. But I learned that 
from your manner as much as I did from 
hers.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


139 


Miss O’Day made no response. Eliza¬ 
beth waited a few moments for her to an¬ 
swer. Being disappointed in this, she 
turned the conversation to the object of her 
errand. 

“Mother sent me a box. The girls will 
be in for a spread this evening and I want 
you to come. It will be at the usual hour 
—any time after lights are out and you can 
get rid of Smiles.” 

Elizabeth arose, moving toward the door. 
“I’ll have less than ten minutes to dress for 
dinner. Do you think I can do it in that 
time? I haven’t been late since I came to 
Exeter, so I shall not hurry now. One late 
mark will keep me in harmony with the rest 
of the girls.” Her hand was upon the 
knob. 

“Wait, Miss Hobart!” Miss O’Day had 
arisen. There was a sound of rustling pet¬ 
ticoats as she moved. She twisted her 
hands nervously as though dreading to 
speak. “I should like nothing better than 
coming. I haven’t been to a ‘blow-out’ this 


140 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


fall. But I hardly think I can come now.” 
She hesitated. She spoke slowly as though 
she could not put her thoughts into the 
proper words. “I really wish to come, Miss 
Hobart. It is kind of you to ask me. I 
don’t want to take advantage of your good¬ 
ness, so I must tell you why the girls here 
do not care to know me. I did something 
wrong last year—something they look upon 
as dreadful. They all belong to the Chris¬ 
tian Association. As an Association they 
are pledged to discountenance just what I 
did. I’m not a member. So since last spring 
I’ve been cut out of every social affair ex¬ 
cept those the school gives.” 

“Well, I call that mean,” cried Elizabeth. 
“Why don’t you—” 

“Ho, they were right in one way. I tell 
you so much because I cannot accept your 
invitation if you do not know. If you wish 
me to tell you all about it, I will, although 
I have spoken of the matter to no one. I 
couldn’t.” 

“No, I don’t want to hear. I wish you to 


AT EXETER HALL. 


14T 

come to-night. I’d rather find matters ont 
for myself. Y on ’ll come ? ’ ’ 

“Does Miss Wilson know you intend ask¬ 
ing me?” 

“Yes, of course. I made out the list this 
morning.” She did not add that Miss Wil¬ 
son had expressed herself rather strongly 
on the subject. 

“Well, then I shall come.” 

“I must go, or I shall be too late to get 
any dinner at all. This is roast beef night, 
too; and that’s the night I always pay the 
cook a compliment by eating two portions 
—my own and Anna Cresswell’s. She 
doesn’t like roast beef, and I don’t like rice 
pudding. So we trade. Good-bye. I’ll 
see you then to-night.” 

“The mail has come,” was Miss Wilson’s 
greeting, as Elizabeth entered her room. 
“I have a letter from Mrs. Gleason. She 
writes to invite me to spend a Sabbath with 
her at my earliest convenience. I am to 
bring you along. I did not know you knew 


142 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


her. I’ve mentioned her so often and you 
never said that you were friends.’’ 

“I don’t know her.” Elizabeth was 
struggling into a white shirtwaist as she 
talked. “I never saw her. There must be 
some mistake about her asking me.” 

“No; there’s the letter. Read it when 
you have leisure. I thought from the way 
she wrote that she knew you well. Odd, 
isn’t it? But we’ll go. It is the best place 
to visit.” 

“But we cannot go for several weeks. 
I’m to lead Sabbath evening.” 

“And I can’t go until Anna Cresswell can 
be here. She has been going away on Sat¬ 
urday. They need a soprano. And she 
and I appear to be the only availables.” 
Mary shook back her hair, as she adjusted 
the last pin in her cuff. “There’s the last 
bell, Elizabeth, and you’re not half ready. 
Well, I’ll hurry on, and if you are locked 
out, I’ll get Maggie to bring your dinner up 
here. She’ll do anything if you give her a 
small tip.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

HOW “smiles” was scalped. 

Azzie Hogan was the last to appear at the 
spread. The first course had been diverted 
to its proper use, and the ice which marked 
the manner of both Mary Wilson and 
Landis Stoner because of the presence of 
Miss O ’Hay had thawed enough to permit a 
feeling of ease among the girls, when Azzie 
arrived. 

There was a motley array of every color 
of kimono that the mind of girl could con¬ 
ceive. Their wearers were being comfort¬ 
able on chairs and stools so far as they held 
out. The girls in excess of the number had 
curled themselves up, Turkish fashion, on 
cushions on the floor. 

‘ 6 Smiles must have allowed Azzie to prac- 
143 


144 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


tice,” said Mary Wilson, with a leg of 
chicken held aloft. 

“Mary looks like Liberty enlightening the 
world,” said Elizabeth. “The drumstick 
answers very well for a torch.” 

“Liberty frightening the world,” said 
Mame Welch. “Whatever made her do it 
—get a red kimono with her hair that 
shade ?” 

“Nearest thing I could get to match,” 
said Mary, laughing. “I got it at a bar¬ 
gain. I didn’t need it. I have more loung¬ 
ing robes than I can possibly wear; but this 
piece was reduced from twenty-five cents to 
fifteen. I saved one-twenty by buying it. 
We—” 

As she was speaking her voice ascended 
the scale until it might have been audible 
half-way down the hall. She was called to 
a halt by a most decided rap upon the door. 
An awesome silence fell upon the room. 
Instantly every girl except the rightful 
owners of the room disappeared. No word 
had been spoken. Only the moving of the 






AT EXETER HALL. 


145 


couch draperies, the gentle swaying of the 
portieres, or the closing of the wardrobe 
door gave hint as to the places of disappear¬ 
ance. Again came the knock. Mary Wil¬ 
son with suspicious haste opened the door. 
“He-he,” giggled Azzie, entering. “You 
thought it was Mrs. Smiles. Come, girls. 
Come out. Mrs. Schuyler will not appear 
this night, or to-morrow either, if I am not 
mistaken.” 

At her invitation the girls came forth. 
Azzie was too tall, too long to seat herself 
with any grace of body. She had the effect 
of sprawling. That she did now. Her 
purple kimono, resplendent with green roses 
and bands, caused her to look like a great 
rag-doll with most of the sawdust missing. 
The others of the party arranged them¬ 
selves on cushions and chairs about her, 
ready to fall, tooth and nail, upon the re¬ 
mains of the roast chicken. Azzie would 
not eat, but kept her hand hidden in the 
folds of her gown. 

“You needn’t be talking in stage whis- 


146 ELIZABETH HOBART 

pers,” she began, with a fine touch of Irish 
in her voice. “Smiles won’t hear you—or 
at least she won’t be coming here. Yell, if 
you choose, or dance a clog. You’re as safe 
as though Smiles was in Halifax.” 

“Don’t be too sure. I never like to run a 
risk, ’ ’ said Landis. ‘ ‘ I should not like to be 
called into the office to-morrow.” 

“I have found it this way with Mrs. 
Schuyler,” explained Mary Wilson. “The 
moment you are sure she isn’t about, that is 
the moment you can be sure she is ready to 
pounce on you.” 

“But she won’t be here now. I’ll yell 
and see.” She yelled—a yell that must 
have have reached to the end of the dormi¬ 
tory and pierced any number of closed 
doors. The girls suppressed their half- 
frightened giggles, and waited. Azzie was 
right. Mrs. Schuyler did not appear. 

“Why doesn’t she come?” asked Min 
Kean in a whisper. “She surely heard 
that.” 

“Because I’ve taken her scalp,” said Az- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


147 


zie. So speaking, she drew forth her hand, 
dangling two sets of false fronts. 

“Oh, you didn’t dare!” 

“How could you!” 

“You’ll be sent home, Azzie.” 

“How did you ever get them?” asked 
Elizabeth. To her, such an act was more 
than merely hazardous. It was reckless¬ 
ness itself. 

“Oh, I got them,” said Azzie coolly. “I 
had a bit of neuralgia. A wisdom tooth has 
been bothering me for a long time, and I 
stopped in after the retiring-bell rang to 
ask Mrs. Schuyler for a drop of medicine to 
put in it. She was ready for bed. Say, 
girls, did you ever see her when she wasn’t 
rigged out ? She looked like a fright. She 
hasn’t much hair left, but what she has was 
done up in curling kids. And these,” dang¬ 
ling the false fronts before their eyes, “these 
lay reposing on the top of the dresser. I 
brought them along to show you girls how 
fine they are—two grades, one for every day 
and one for dress-up days.” 


148 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“Don’t shake them so close over my cocoa, 
please,’’ cried Landis, removing her cup be¬ 
yond the reach of Azzie’s scalps. 

“I felt safe about coming so long as I had 
these,” continued Azzie. “Don’t be afraid, 
Landis. A few hairs more or less won’t 
hurt your supper.” 

“How will you get them back*?” asked 
Elizabeth, who was fearful for Azzie’s wel¬ 
fare. 

“I hadn’t got that far in my thinking,” 
was the droll response. “I knew nothing 
could induce her to visit us without these,” 
with another Indian flourish of the scalps in 
the air. “We are safe to-night. To-mor¬ 
row Smiles will have a headache, and will 
not be able to come down to breakfast, and 
perhaps not during the entire day. Drop 
in to-morrow to ask her something and see 
if you do not find her with her head tied 
up.” 

It was impossible not to laugh at Azzie. 
There was such a droll dryness to her humor, 
a peculiar touch to her way of saying things 


AT EXETER HALL. 


149 


which made her most ordinary expressions 
masquerade as wit. At times she lacked 
tact which caused her companions no lit¬ 
tle embarrassment. This trait was made 
evident by her turning to Miss O’Day with 
the remark: 

“And, Nora, are you here? I’m as sur¬ 
prised to see you as I am to be here my¬ 
self.” Then turning to Elizabeth, she add¬ 
ed as an explanation, “The ‘Exclusives’ 
had no time for Miss O ’Day last spring, and 
I was always too much wrapped up in my 
music to be good company. So we were not 
invited to the spreads in the hall. I’m 
glad, Elizabeth, you broke over and invited 
us.” 

Miss O’Day’s face grew crimson. Eliza¬ 
beth, too embarrassed to respond, remained 
silent. Miss Wilson arose to the occasion, 
changing the subject with the question, 
“When is Miss Kronenberg going back?” 

“Not until Monday,” replied Landis, who 
was rarely embarrassed. These two, with 
the assistance of Marne Welch and Carrie 


150 ELIZABETH HOBART 

Hirsch, diverted the attention from Miss 
O’Day. 

“I do not German lessons take. Frau- 
lein is not my instructor.” 

“Well, she is mine,” responded Mary 
Wilson with a sigh. “As in a dream I hear 
her say, ‘Fraulein Wilson, you have it un¬ 
right.’ I’ve taken lessons from her for 
three years, and that is the only remark she 
has ever made to me.” 

“She will be giving examinations soon,” 
said Marne. “The Seniors and Middlers 
finish her work fully a week before the mid¬ 
winter holiday. It gives us time to cram on 
something else. It won’t be long now.” 

“Last year, indeed for several years, she 
has asked the class to write in German a 
description of a walk in the woods, or our 
Christmas at home, or what our college life 
has done for us. It is always the same. 
She lets you choose one of the three, but 
you must write a certain amount before she 
will accept it.” 

“Landis and I are ready for it,” began 


AT EXETER HALL. 


151 


Min Kean placidly. “We have ours writ¬ 
ten ready for her. I took a ‘Walk in the 
Woods,’ for my subject. I did want to take 
‘What Exeter has Done for Me,’ but Landis 
persuaded me out of it. Of course, she was 
right about it. No one expects me to write 
on subjects as deep as Landis. We have 
ours all finished and ready.” 

“Nonsense, Min,” cried her roommate. 
“One would think to hear you talk that we 
were expecting to pony through. You 
know such an idea is the one furthest from 
our minds. You leave such false impres¬ 
sions.” Then turning to the girls, she ex¬ 
plained, “I knew Fraulein Kronenberg 
was in the habit of asking for such work in 
the examinations, so I told Min there would 
be no harm in our practicing at this work. 
It would be quite the same thing as though 
we were reviewing our lessons. Of course, 
we had no intention of handing them in.” 
Landis always appeared several inches tal¬ 
ler when she sought to justify herself. 

“The day we are free of German, that 


152 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


day will Miss Brosius put us to extra work 
in elocution and oratory. If I read the 
stars right, I discovered a play in the corner 
of her eye when I saw her last. She has 
already begun to estimate each one of us, 
to see who will best serve her purpose. 
Anna Cresswell is already doomed. She is 
always dragged in for the beautiful, calm 
creature who doeth and thinketh no evil. I 
wonder why she is always selected when 
I-” 

“I suppose they know you’d overdo it,” 
suggested Azzie, lazily. ‘ 4 Thank goodness, 
there are some things I escape by not being 
quick to learn my part. They never tried 
me but once.” 

“But you always play. I’d rather any 
day get up and strut over the stage, shriek¬ 
ing ‘Is that a dagger that I see before me?’ 
than sit down and keep my fingers on the 
right keys,” said Marne Welch. 

“It is certainly wonderful how Azzie can 
play,” said Min. “Every one seems to en¬ 
joy it; but, do you know, just for myself, 


AT EXETER HALL. 


153 


I like popular airs best? Beethoven and 
Mozart may be fine, but I like the kind that 
the newsboys whistle and all the hurdy- 
gurdies play.” 

“Wouldn’t Mozart turn in his grave if 
he heard her?” asked Mame. “Speak to 
her, Azzie. Reason with her. You are the 
only one who has artistic sense enough to be 
shocked. Tell her to keep quiet, like the 
others of us do, and pretend to revel in de¬ 
light at Wagner.” 

“Will the Middlers be in it, too?” asked 
Elizabeth. Her heart failed at the thought. 

“Yes,” said Mary, seeing that Elizabeth 
was really concerned at the prospect of ap¬ 
pearing in public. “Yes, they give the 
Middlers several parts. You see, their idea 
is to get the Middlers used to public speak¬ 
ing so that they will appear well when they 
are Seniors. All the experiences or les¬ 
sons Middlers ever get are given them in or¬ 
der to fit them to be Seniors.” 

The lunch had been progressing during 
the chatter. A few drumsticks and several 


154 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


slices of cake remained to show what had 
been. Elizabeth and Mary, with true 
housewifely instinct, put away the remnants 
of the feast after their guests had finished. 

“How economical you are becoming!” 
said Marne Welch. “If I become hungry 
to-morrow, I will visit while you are not 
here. If you miss anything, I think you 
may give Landis the credit of taking it.” 

Landis shrugged her shoulders. “To see 
how careful they are, one would think they 
never had much to eat before and don’t ex¬ 
pect much again. Now, I’d throw the 
whole lot of it into the scrap-basket and let 
Jimmy Jordan carry it off with the refuse. 
You bring to my mind that woman we met 
the day we came back to Exeter. She was 
horrified because I didn’t take what was 
left of our lunch and run about offering it 
to some people who did not have any with 
them. She went outside and shared hers 
with such a common-looking woman and 
two dirty, crying babies.” 

“And me, too,” said Elizabeth, not a whit 


AT EXETER HALL. 


155 


abashed that she had been one of the party 
which Landis saw fit to criticise. 

“Oh, yes,” was the reply. “But I sup¬ 
pose you were forced into it.” 

“I wasn’t forced into it,” Elizabeth re¬ 
plied. “Indeed, I was glad to go. It was 
like a little picnic out there under the 
tree—” 

“With two crying babies'?” 

“They did not cry after we went out. 
And the woman whom you laugh at was 
very agreeable. The wait did not seem at 
all long. It was rather like a pleasant 
party.” 

“Well, tastes differ,” was the reply. “I 
am glad you enjoyed it. I’m sure I should 
not. Come, Min, don’t you think we had 
better pick our steps back?” 

“Walk as you please. The great Hokee 
Bokee Chief of the Night Hawks has taken 
the scalp of the pale-faced scout,” shouted 
Mary Wilson, jumping to her feet and, seiz¬ 
ing the false fronts, she waved them madly 
in the air while she executed a war-dance. 


156 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


‘/Give them back to Azzie,” said Mame. 
“ Sometime early to-morrow morning you 
will find that the pale-faced scout is close 
on Azzie’s trail.” 

Azzie took the trophies in her hand, ex¬ 
amining them critically. 6 ‘To-morrow I 
intend to go in and call upon her. I know 
she’ll have a towel bound around her head.” 

The girls were about to depart when 
Mame Welch exclaimed, “ There, I almost 
forgot! Anna Cresswell has been invited 
down to Gleasonton to visit at the Sena¬ 
tor’s. Mrs. Gleason is arranging quite a 
party of Exeter girls as soon as they can 
have a free Saturday.” 

64 Elizabeth and I were invited to-day,” 
said Mary. “We were to let Mrs. Gleason 
know what Saturday we would have free. ’ ’ 

“They have fine times there—so they tell 
me,” Azzie said. “I’ve never been invited 
to see for myself.” 

“I do not know Mrs. Gleason person¬ 
ally,” remarked Landis, “but we have the 
same set of friends. No doubt if I should 


AT EXETER HALL. 


157 


tell her that I’m Robert Stoner’s daughter, 
she’d out-do herself to be kind to me.” 

“Why,” said Elizabeth guilelessly, “was 
she such a friend of your father’s?” 

Landis shrugged her shoulders. “My 
father was a man of some prominence,” 
was the response. “But how is it that she 
invited you? Did you not tell me that you 
did not know her ?” 

“I don’t. I have never so much as seen 
her.” 

“She’s very philanthropic—always try¬ 
ing to help people who need it. I suppose 
she knew you were a new student, and per¬ 
haps hadn’t a wide acquaintance here, so 
she invited you that you might not find life 
too dull.” 

“Perhaps,” was the reply, with a smile 
of amusement. Elizabeth was learning a 
great deal, not less important that it lay 
outside of classes and books. 

The other girls had departed. Only 
Landis and Miss O’Day remained. Then 
the former with a whispered “good-night” 


158 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


went tip-toeing down the hall. Miss O ’Day 
lingered. 

Much to Elizabeth’s surprise she bent her 
head to kiss her. “It was very kind of you, 
Elizabeth, to ask me to come this evening. 
But the other girls did not like it. Come 
to see me. You and I will grow chummy 
over my tea-table. But you do not need to 
ask me again when you entertain. I will 
not feel hurt. If you persist in being good 
to me, they will drop you and you will find 
it very lonely.” 

“They may do as they see fit,” she re¬ 
sponded with determination. “I will en¬ 
tertain whom I wish. If they do not choose 
to come, then they have the alternative. 
Good-night! Don’t worry about me, Miss 
O’Day. I’m learning to take care of my¬ 
self.” Then she put up her lips to be 
kissed again. 

The following morning the preceptress 
did not appear at breakfast, as Azzie had 
predicted. The dinner hour, according to 
the custom for all holidays, had been post- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


159 


poned until two o’clock. Devotional exer¬ 
cises were held in the chapel at ten o’clock. 
Mrs. Schuyler’s place on the rostrum was 
vacant. 

“She’s been in her room all morning,” 
giggled Min to Landis on their way to their 
rooms. 

“I hope Azzie will see the error of her 
ways before dinner time,” Mary Wilson 
said. “I should not like to miss a Thanks¬ 
giving dinner.” 

As though Mary’s words had power to 
call her, Azzie at that moment came down 
the corridor, swinging herself lazily along. 

“This is the sixth time I’ve started for 
Mrs. Schuyler’s room,” she began at the 
sight of the girls. “But the moment I 
reach the door, my heart drops down into 
my shoes, and it’s so heavy, I can’t move my 
feet an inch.” 

“Taking scalps is not all the fun it’s sup¬ 
posed to be, is it?” asked Marne Welch. 

“The taking is all right. The taking 
lack is what hurts my feelings.” Azzie 


160 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


sighed deeply as she began to unwrap the 
paper about the false fronts. “I don’t 
know whether I’ll have the courage to lay 
them inside her door or not. I’d put it off 
until to-morrow if it wasn’t for the Thanks¬ 
giving dinner. Well, there’s luck in odd 
numbers.” 

“To me there would be something too 
subtle, too sly, in slipping them in at the 
door.” The remark was from Landis. 

As usual, Mary Wilson was the one quick 
to reply. “Then Azzie will not do it if 
there be but a suspicion of subtleness about 
it. Do you not know her well enough, Lan¬ 
dis, to know when she is jesting and when 
she is not?” 

“Oh, well, let us hope she was jesting 
then,” was the reply. 

The seventh venture had carried a charm 
for Azzie. Her heart did not go thumping 
to her heels again. She knocked at Mrs. 
Schuyler’s door and then entered without 
waiting for permission. 

“Good-morning, Mrs. Schuyler,” she 


AT EXETER HALL. 


161 


cried gayly. “I was sorry not to see yon 
down to breakfast, though to be honest I 
did not expect you. Did you miss anything 
last evening after I was in'? It was too 
good a chance—there they were lying right 
under my eyes. I’ll leave them here,” lay¬ 
ing the budget on a table near her, “so you 
can come down to dinner.” 

Her manner was not that of one who 
merited or expected a rebuke. There was 
such a big-hearted friendliness in her voice 
that Mrs. Schuyler’s heart responded. She 
smiled in spite of the feeling of vengeance 
she had been cherishing against her tor¬ 
mentor. Before she could regain her aus¬ 
terity of manner, Azzie had departed and 
was half way down the dormitory hall, on 
her way to the music-room for an hour’s 
practice before dinner. 

Thanksgiving was not a day of unalloyed 
happiness to Elizabeth. The afternoon’s 
mail brought her letters and papers from 
Bitumen. Her father wrote the home news 
with the same gaiety which marked his con- 


162 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


versation. He mentioned, as though it 
were a subject to be lightly treated, that 
there was some talk of the miners “going 
out.” He thought their grievance might 
be adjusted without resorting to extreme 
measures—a week or so would tell. Then 
he took up the little matters of the house. 

The letter was remarkably cheerful. 
Yet Elizabeth was disturbed in spirit. She 
had never lived through a strike; but she 
had heard the miners’ wives tell of the 
dreadful happenings. So far she thought 
only of the suffering of the miners’ fami¬ 
lies, with no money, starving and freezing 
in their little shanties. She had never 
heard how the lives of the operators and 
men in the position of her father hung in 
the balance at such times. 

After reading the letter again, she me¬ 
chanically took up the newspaper. The 
black headlines heralding the coming strike 
were before her. She read column after 
column hurriedly. The newspaper at¬ 
tached greater importance to the rumors 


AT EXETER HALL. 


163 


than her father. They recounted the hor¬ 
rors of strikes past, and presaged them for 
strikes to come. No definite reasons had 
been given for the miners going out. The 
article hinted that only the grossest imposi¬ 
tion of the operators had led them to con¬ 
sider a strike. The names of two men ap¬ 
peared frequently—Dennis O’Day and Ra- 
towsky—who were opposed to each other. 
Strange to say, neither was a miner. Ra- 
towsky could influence the men because he 
was foreign-born, a Pole, as the majority 
of them were. On the other hand, Dennis 
O’Day was a native American, a class of 
which the foreign element is suspicious. 
Yet at his instigation the miners had 
arisen. 

The article caused Elizabeth some uneasi¬ 
ness. She looked forward to the following 
day’s paper, hoping it might contain a 
brighter outlook. But on the next day 
when she went to the reading room, she 
failed to find the papers. For many suc¬ 
cessive days the same thing occurred. 


164 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Then at length, she gave up looking for 
them. It was not until a month later that 
she learned that they had disappeared at 
Dr. Morgan’s suggestion, and the girls were 
aiding her in keeping the worrisome news 
from Elizabeth. 

The letters from home came at their us¬ 
ual times, but neither her father nor mother 
mentioned the trouble at the mines. Eliz¬ 
abeth, believing that no news was good 
news, took it for granted that the difficulty 
had been amicably settled. 

A week later, in company with Mary 
Wilson, she set forth to visit Mrs. Gleason. 
From Exeter to Gleasonton is only an 
hour’s ride. At the station, they found a 
sleigh with a coachman and footman wait¬ 
ing to convey them to Senator Gleason’s 
home. 

“It is the prettiest place in summer,” 
said Mary, as they went flying over the 
snow-packed roads. “Everything is so 
beautiful that you can really believe it is 
fairyland.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


165 


On their way, they passed several stately 
country residences, closed for the winter. 
Then came acres and acres of bark-sheds 
filled with bark for the tanneries; then the 
tanneries themselves. Then, at a distance, 
upon the brow of the hill were seen the 
stone walls of Senator Gleason’s home. 

“Isn’t it beautiful 1 ?” whispered Eliz¬ 
abeth, as though should she speak aloud the 
spell would be broken, and the place, like 
Aladdin’s palace, vanish in the air. 

“Wait until you see it in summer, with 
all the vines and beautiful trees,” was the 
response. 

They turned into the driveway, and in a 
few minutes were brought to the front en¬ 
trance. At the sound of the bells, the door 
opened and Senator Gleason appeared, 
smiling and affable, to welcome them, and 
following him was his wife. 

Elizabeth gave a start of surprise. Al¬ 
though more richly dressed than when she 
had seen her before, Elizabeth recognized 
in her the plain little woman with whom she 
had eaten lunch on her journey to Exeter. 










CHAPTER VII. 

DEFYING THE POWERS. 

Both Fraulein Kronenberg and Dr. 
Kitchell announced tests for the week be¬ 
fore the Christinas holidays. The Se¬ 
niors and Middlers arose early and stayed 
up late to study. The hour for physical 
exercise was cut as short as Miss Brosius 
would permit. There was little time for 
anything that was purely social. There 
was no lingering in the hall after meals for 
chats. Carrie Hirsch was the only one who 
had leisure after Miss Kronenberg’s an¬ 
nouncement. She laughed as the girls hur¬ 
ried back to their rooms. “ German is not 
so hard,” she explained. “What one 
thinks one must say—so simple are the 
words. Not at all can I understand why 
they all look so like a frown because Erau- 
167 


168 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


lein Kronenberg gives them but one little 
story to write in the German.” 

“Suppose Miss Berard should give you 
a simple little story to write in English,” 
returned Mary Wilson. “Wouldn’t you 
look like a frown, too?” 

Miss Hirsch shrugged her shoulders. 
“It is true you speak; but English is so dif¬ 
ferent.” 

Elizabeth felt the excitement attendant 
upon an examination. Had she paused 
long enough to analyse her feelings, she 
would have discovered that she had no fear 
of failing. She had read German with 
Miss Hale since she was old enough to read. 
The Middlers ’ work in German had been to 
her like an old tale, oft repeated. But the 
attitude of the other students and the nov¬ 
elty of an examination made her nervous. 
She was hurrying back to her room one 
morning when Anna Cresswell stopped her. 

“You have the next period vacant?” she 
asked. 

“Yes, but Wednesday is the German ex- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


169 


ams and I have been putting in this hour 
cramming for them.” 

“Then I’ll do you a good turn by taking 
you away from them. Come, let us take a 
turn up and down the campus. We’ll walk 
fast enough to keep warm. There is 
something about which I wish to talk to 
you.” 

Half-reluctantly, Elizabeth went with 
her. 

“I feel as though I had been neglecting 
my work in regard to you,” began Miss 
Cresswell, as they crossed the campus. 
She tucked Elizabeth’s arm under her own. 
Elizabeth felt that something confidential 
was forthcoming. She was yet unused to 
the friendship of girls and any act on their 
part out of the ordinary made her feel shy 
and awkward. 

“But you were with Mary Wilson, so I 
knew you were in good hands, although I 
should have come to you at once. But we 
had so many new girls this semester that I 
could not get around sooner. I’m presi- 


170 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


dent of the Young Woman’s Christian As¬ 
sociation at Exeter, you know?” 

“Yes; or at least, I suppose so. I have 
always attended with Mary. You preside, 
so I took it for granted that you are presi¬ 
dent.” 

“It was the public meetings you at¬ 
tended. We have some private conferences 
where no one is present but active members. 
We do this that we may talk over the needs 
of some special student, and act accord¬ 
ingly. Of course, we can not publicly diag¬ 
nose such cases.” 

“Yes?” said Elizabeth, feeling that Miss 
Cresswell had paused to give her an oppor¬ 
tunity to reply. 

“Part of our work is to interview each 
new student; to ask them to join us in ac¬ 
tive Christian work. We need you in the 
Association and I believe you will find, 
after you join us, that you have been need¬ 
ing us.” 

“Perhaps so. There can be no doubt of 
the latter, but as to helping you, I am afraid 


AT EXETER HALL. 


171 


I couldn’t do that. Not that I am not will¬ 
ing, but I do not believe I am capable of 
it.” 

“We’ll risk that,” with a smile. “I’m 
confident that you can do much. The mere 
coming out and announcing yourself as a 
member of a band of Christian workers will 
have a good influence.” 

“Perhaps it will. To be frank with you, 
Miss Cresswell, I’ve never thought about 
such a thing. At home I studied a great 
deal, helped mother some, and rode about 
the country hunting flowers with Miss Hale. 
I never gave a thought to the matters that 
you talk of.” 

“Then you are not a Christian?” The 
question was asked in surprise. 

The girl looked with a puzzled expression 
into the serious face of her companion. 
Then she spoke slowly, as though the 
idea was for the first time presented to 
her. 

“I do not know. I—never—really 
thought anything at all about it. You see 


172 ELIZABETH HOBART 

it was just this way at home, Miss Cress- 
well. My father and mother with Miss 
Hale were all the friends I had. We could 
not go to church; the miners are foreigners, 
and when a priest was sent to them for 
services, he spoke Polish, or Slav, or Rus¬ 
sian, so there was little use of our going. 
Miss Hale had a Mission Sabbath School 
for the younger people. I asked once to 
help her. She refused for some reason. 
She did not tell me why. At home, we read 
our Bible and have family prayers. 
Mother taught me a great deal, and I com¬ 
mitted a great deal to memory; but as to 
my being a Christian, I never really 
thought of it before.” 

“Then let us think about it now,” was 
the response. She drew Elizabeth’s arm 
closer within her own. Slowly they re¬ 
traced their steps from the dormitory door 
to the end of the campus walk, Miss Cress- 
well talking earnestly all the while. She 
spoke well on her subject; she believed 
what she said; and she was honest and sim- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


173 


pie-minded in her efforts to present these 
truths to Elizabeth’s mind. 

The hour passed quickly. With a start 
of surprise, they heard the bells for the dis¬ 
missal of classes. 

“Is it possible? I did not think the time 
was half gone. We must hurry. You will 
think on this matter, Elizabeth?” 

. “Yes; I will think of it. I can’t promise 
more. It seems so serious. I do not wish 
to undertake anything without being sure 
of what I really think and am.” 

They parted at the door, Miss Cresswell 
hurrying off to Dr. Kitchell’s class-room, 
while Elizabeth, with tardy step and dis¬ 
turbed mind, went to recite to Miss Bro- 
sius. 

The same evening Elizabeth accom¬ 
panied her roommate to a special meeting 
of the Young Woman’s Christian Associa¬ 
tion. It had become a custom of the school 
to hold such meetings before the tests be¬ 
gan, but Elizabeth, not knowing this, was 


174 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


wholly ignorant of the object of the meet¬ 
ing. 

Miss Cresswell as president went through 
the preliminaries of calling the Association 
to order. She was tactful and discreet. 
Landis, to whom public speaking was a 
coveted opportunity, immediately arose and 
moved forward to the front of the room 
where she could face her audience. She 
carried her head and shoulders unusuallv 
erect. Her clear, decisive manner of 
speaking indicated that she believed the 
mere stating of her opinion on the subject 
would forever settle it in the minds of her 
hearers. 

I regret,” she began, “to make such a 
statement before the new students at Ex¬ 
eter lest they form a bad opinion of us in 
general. But at Exeter Hall, as in other 
schools, all pupils do not have the same 
ideals and views of what is right and 
wrong. It often happens, and has hap¬ 
pened here within our knowledge, that a 
student who would scorn to take any prop- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


175 


erty which was not hers, has taken anoth¬ 
er’s ability, has actually copied work and 
handed it in as her own. This has hap¬ 
pened and may happen again. So we,” the 
speaker so placed her emphasis that “we” 
became the dominant spirit of the school, 
“determined to do as we did last year,—call 
together the members of the Association to 
take means to prevent a growth of the 
spirit of deception.” 

Landis walked back to her place. Her 
manner had been forcible and had im¬ 
pressed many. 

The president asked for expressions of 
opinions from the members. The remarks 
were not slow in coming. Immediately a 
half-dozen girls were upon their feet de- ' 
manding recognition. 

Marne Welch in her droll, half-humorous 
way was the first to speak. 

“I do not see why we should trouble our¬ 
selves because from one to a half-dozen 
girls among several hundred see fit to copy 


176 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


and carry ‘ponies’ into class. If they are 
satisfied, let them do it.” 

“But, oh,” cried Carrie Hirsch, not wait¬ 
ing for permission to speak. “It is not 
fair. It may be so, one girl must hard 
work; another girl, work not hard. Yet 
one mark, oh, so high,” she raised her 
hands to express how high the grades of the 
delinquent might be, “because into exams 
she carry papers, or from her friend’s 
paper she learn all she wishes to write.” 

The other members could not suppress a 
smile as Carrie talked. She was so en¬ 
tirely in earnest, so carried away by her 
own enthusiasm, and so badly mixed in her 
English. 

It was Landis who again responded. 
“That is not the spirit in which we have 
undertaken this correction. To the real 
student it matters little who may have 
higher marks than herself. She studies for 
the love of study and the hope of improve¬ 
ment. Neither should we say that it is 
nothing to us whether a half-dozen others 


AT EXETER HALL. 


177 


are dishonest or not. It is something to ns 
or it should be. We have banded our¬ 
selves together as a set of Christian work¬ 
ers, and it should be something to us 
whether a half-dozen among us are not do¬ 
ing the honorable thing.” There was a 
war-like tone in Landis’ words. Whatever 
weakness there was in the girl’s character, 
she possessed an overwhelming desire to 
have people believe that she stood on the 
side of right. She was ambitious to be 
thought an earnest Christian girl. She 
would have left no stone unturned to have 
been a leader among the girls. She was 
willing to cajole, to cater in order to win 
friendship. Yet in spite of all her efforts, 
she influenced only a few. Among those 
few were none of the stronger girls of Ex¬ 
eter. Min, to be sure, followed close at her 
heels, and one or two others; but they were 
not of the brighter lights from either an 
ethical or intellectual point of view. 

“It is our duty to go to them—to talk to 
them,” she continued. 


178 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“And have a hornet’s nest buzzing about 
your ears,” exclaimed Mary Wilson, disre¬ 
garding all the rules of Parliamentary law 
which Dr. Kitchell tried to teach them. 
She was on her feet, moving to the front, 
talking as she went. “I really haven’t the 
self-assertion to walk up to strange stu¬ 
dents and tell them the error of their ways. 
To me, that course of action savors too 
much of conceit of our own virtues. The 
best we can do is to be perfectly honorable 
about the examinations. Our mental atti¬ 
tude toward dishonorable proceedings 
ought to have its influence without our go¬ 
ing about making ourselves odious by 
preaching.” 

Someone else took up the discussion. It 
grew warmer and warmer. Landis main¬ 
tained the position she took in regard to 
personal work. In the excitement, several 
talked at once, forgetting that there was a 
chairman to whom a certain courtesy was 
due. Miss Cresswell used the gavel until 


AT EXETER HALL. 


179 


its sound drowned out the voices. For a 
time peace reigned again. 

During the discussion, Elizabeth leaned 
forward. This was intensely interesting 
to her. Her lips were parted, and a flush 
caused by excitement came to her cheeks. 
She looked with admiration upon those 
girls who could talk in public. In her eyes 
they were gifted creatures more richly 
blessed than the ordinary mortal like her¬ 
self. Hitherto she had been fond of 
spunky little Mary Wilson. Now she ad¬ 
mired and looked up to her as one must 
look up to a person of talents. 

Miss O’Day, dressed in a striking gown 
of imported material, sat by the side of 
Elizabeth. She must have heard the dis¬ 
cussion, yet she made no show of interest, 
but seemed like one whose thoughts were 
far off. 

Suddenly a sprightly little girl sprang 
up and made herself heard: “I think we 
had a fairly good pian last year—the plan 
we copy from the old Greeks—the plan of 


180 ELIZABETH HOBART 

ostracising. Girls have copied and cheated 
in examinations ever since examinations 
were known, and I suppose they will do so 
as long as examinations are held. There 
are always a few whose hump of moral re¬ 
sponsibility isn’t developed. I agree with 
one of the previous speakers this far—let 
those half-dozen who desire to cheat, cheat. 
Let it he nothing to us. But I would add 
this much more—let them be also nothing 
to us. Let us ostracise them entirely, cut 
them off from all invitations.” 

At her words, the discussion grew 
warmer again. It was as though she had 
let loose a swarm of bees. Parliamentary 
law went to the winds. Por a moment, 
every common courtesy seemed to be for¬ 
gotten. Her suggestion met with some 
favor. To the surprise of Elizabeth, Mary 
Wilson was its strongest advocate. Lan¬ 
dis now also favored such a course, and con¬ 
sequently Min Kean. In her heart, Eliz¬ 
abeth disapproved, but she was not able to 
speak as the others had done. She could 


AT EXETER HALL. 


181 


only sit silent. Popular opinion was in 
favor of the ostracism. Then another 
question was brought up. Landis, again, 
was the one to set the ball rolling. 

“But how are we to find out who does the 
cheating?” she asked. “If I should see 
some member of my class make use of a 
“pony,” am I expected to cut her dead, 
while all the others are friendly with her 
as usual? I do not see how she would be 
much affected by that, for she may care 
very little whether I ignore her or not.” 

At this Landis sat down but she bent for¬ 
ward and spoke to Min Kean. After a lit¬ 
tle encouragement, Min arose. She was 
not quick to grasp ideas even at her best. 
Now, as she stood upon her feet, she lost 
what little confidence she possessed, stumb¬ 
ling over her words, looking helplessly to¬ 
ward Landis for encouragement. 

“We think—that is, I think—that 
wouldn’t count much—I mean just having 
one person ostracise you. I think it should 
be told—I mean if we found anyone cheat- 


182 ELIZABETH HOBART 

ing, it should be told. Then we would get 
together and tell that person why we are 
going to act toward them like we are going 
to act. That’s only fair. That’s the way 
they treat criminals in court.” 

Then she retired to let Landis take her 
place. “The speaker has said in part what 
I had in mind. I do not wish my hearers 
to believe I would countenance news-car¬ 
rying or tattling. That, of course, is be¬ 
neath any right-minded person. But we 
must—I say we must/’ Landis raised her 
finger impressively, and repeated the words 
as though she intended at that moment to 
root out the evil with tooth and nail. “We 
must get rid of this deceptive tendency. It 
will have an evil effect on Exeter. Per¬ 
haps, in time, destroy the school altogether. ’ ’ 

“Umph! Exeter has stood a hundred 
years and will stand a hundred more in 
spite of anything Landis may do,” said 
Miss O’Day, in a low tone to Elizabeth. 
This was the first she had spoken since they 
had entered the meeting. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


183 


Landis continued, “For that reason, I 
think it would be wise if one sees another 
cheating, to lay her name before the mem¬ 
bers and let them act accordingly.” 

Elizabeth could never tell how it hap¬ 
pened. Months after, in thinking the mat¬ 
ter over, she could not justify herself in 
the thought that she had acted from hon¬ 
orable motives or for any good purpose. 
She had acted upon the impulse of the mo¬ 
ment. This last speech was opposed to all 
Elizabeth’s natural instincts. Her finer 
feelings were hurt, and like a child she must 
cry out. 

“The idea is preposterous,” she ex¬ 
claimed, getting upon her feet and walking 
to the front of the room. Indignation had 
turned to crimson the pink which en¬ 
thusiasm had brought to her cheek. “No 
good ever comes of using a wrong to make 
another wrong right. Like every one else, 
I think there should be no dishonor in ex¬ 
aminations. But to my mind, tale-bearing 
is equally dishonorable. Consider the idea 


184 ELIZABETH HOBART 

of our pledging ourselves to run and tell 
every one else when we find that someone 
has done wrong. I refuse to do such a 
thing even though I know it would stamp 
out every bit of cheating in our exami¬ 
nations.” 

At this came a hurst of applause, so that 
for the time Elizabeth was forced to discon¬ 
tinue. She saw Mary Wilson’s eyes beam¬ 
ing upon her. Not another face could she 
distinguish. When the applause ceased, 
she began again. It was evident she was 
thinking of nothing else but the injustice 
and littleness of the act they had been con¬ 
templating. She felt deeply, and talked as 
she felt. Eor a moment she was an orator 
worthy the name. 

“Eor this ostracising, I have as little 
sympathy. A student does wrong, and you 
would cut her off immediately from all who 
are trying to do right. If your purpose is 
to assist those weaker than yourself, you 
will never succeed by such a method. If 
every one was to be ignored for every bit of 


AT EXETER HALL. 


185 


deceit they practice, I fancy most of ns 
would be going around by ourselves, rather 
lonely.” A smile passed over the faces of 
her hearers—a smile of amusement and sur¬ 
prise, for hitherto Elizabeth had been a 
quiet, shy girl, almost timid in company; 
and now upon the instant she had taken the 
lead. She had come forth alone when all 
the odds were against her, boldly declaring 
her opinion, and fearless to defend the 
course she believed to be right. 

“If we are going to begin this reforma¬ 
tion, let us begin aright—at the root of the 
evil, and carry it through all its branches. 
Let us begin with the students who leave us 
under false impressions—telling us ro¬ 
mances of their adventures, their powerful 
friends, their finances.” To do Elizabeth 
justice, the girl with traits like these she 
mentioned had no definite form in her mind. 
She was only supposing a case. Yet, un¬ 
consciously, her mind had received during 
these months of school an idea of such a 
person. She could not embody these quali- 


186 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


ties with a human form. Yet more than one 
of her hearers recognized these as charac¬ 
teristics of one who had been foremost in 
the denunciations of dishonest examina¬ 
tions. “Let us begin with the girls who 
turn out their lights and go to bed long 
enough to deceive Mrs. Schuyler, and then 
get up again to prowl—and to the girl who 
gets a book from the town library and al¬ 
lows a dozen to read it before it is returned, 
when she has pledged herself to withdraw 
the books for her use alone. 

“We, as a set of Christian girls”—the 
expression was new to Elizabeth, but it does 
not take one long to become a Christian—• 
“would ostracise any who did not come up 
to our standard of ethics! I say here so 
that you may all know where I stand”—her 
cheeks grew scarlet, and in the energy of her 
emotions she emphasized strongly—“I will 
not declare the name of anyone who ‘ponies’ 
in class, nor will I cut them from my list 
of acquaintances. I shall let them know I 
despise such deception, but I shall treat 


AT EXETER HALL. 


187 


them exactly as I have always treated 
them.” 

With that she went back to her place. 
To her surprise Miss O ’Day was not there, 
having slipped away at the beginning of 
Elizabeth’s talk. 

The girls applauded heartily. Someone 
else arose to speak. Elizabeth’s enthusiasm 
haying died suddenly away, she felt yery 
limp and weak. She was surprised at her 
own boldness. 

“I’m going back to our room,” she whis¬ 
pered to Mary Wilson. “I feel all gone.” 

“Yes, I can sympathize with you. I felt 
just so the first time I got up there. But 
you’ll get oyer it and enjoy a scrap. I’ll 
go with you. A cup of cocoa will set you 
up all right.” 

Together they quitted the hall. As they 
crossed the campus, Mary continued: “I 
was afraid you were going to get personal, 
and hurt someone with your words; but you 
stopped just in time. One does not mind 
if the whole set gets a slap in the face; but 


188 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


one does not like to be the only one. It is 
just this way about the girls you meet at 
Exeter. We are like a little town. There 
will be a few whom you will like well enough 
to be genuine friends with; then there’s a 
whole long line who will be pleasant ac¬ 
quaintances; and some whom you will care 
nothing at all about, although they will be 
good people in their way. Some here have 
opinions of their own, and some are mere 
copies. A girl must learn to think for her¬ 
self, and express her opinion without get¬ 
ting angry or giving personal hits. The 
moment that is done, Miss Cresswell 
will request the guilty one to leave the 
room.” 

“Will they do it?” 

“Do it? Haven’t you learned that peo¬ 
ple generally do as Anna Cresswell sug¬ 
gests? She’s a very poor girl—too poor to 
come to Exeter. But her influence over the 
younger set was so marked that they say 
Dr. Morgan makes it worth her while to 
stay.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


189 


“What does she do? She seems very 
quiet.” 

■ 4 She is—and isn’t. She’s quiet when it’s 
necessary to be. As to what she does, if 
you keep your eyes open, you’ll find her 
visiting the homesick girls, introducing the 
shy ones, tutoring the backward ones.” 

4 4 It is a wonder she did not call upon me 
earlier in the term then. I might be classi¬ 
fied under all three heads.” 

Mary tossed back her hair, and laughed. 
4 4 But you had me, and when one has me to 
look after her she does not need even Anna 
Cresswell.” 

4 4 Especially when it comes to keeping 
rooms in order,” added Elizabeth. 

44 You haven’t forgiven me for that yet.” 

44 Yes; I have—long ago.” 

4 4 Well, you don’t need disciplining 
now. You are growing so particular that 
I’m almost ashamed of my own careless¬ 
ness.” 

Elizabeth replied earnestly. “Well, with 
me, I must be decided one way or the other. 


190 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


I think I am naturally careless. So I dare 
not give up to myself even, a little bit.” 

They entered their rooms as she was 
speaking. 

“ Just one cup of cocoa, and then we must 
get down to work. I’m afraid of Dr. 
Kitchell’s mathematics.” 

“I’m afraid of everything. I never took 
an examination of any kind.” 

“Dr. Kitchell^s y&ry fair; but he scares 
you to death weeks before. He is always 
holding exams up before you like a death’s 
head at the feast.” 

The decided stand taken by Elizabeth 
caused no little discussion. The meeting 
adjourned without any definite action being 
taken. The only point gained by the dis¬ 
cussion was opening the eyes of a few to the 
fact that their point of view might not be 
the only one. Many felt as Elizabeth. The 
matter was dropped for the time. 

The examinations began early in the 
morning, running through several class 
periods. Elizabeth, provided with a motley 


AT EXETER HALL. 


191 


array of examination paraphernalia, en¬ 
tered Dr. Kitchell’s class-room. The great¬ 
er part of the class was already present, as 
were Dr. Kitchell and Miss Brosius. Dr. 
Kitchell was in the front of the room. 
Upon Elizabeth’s entrance, with a gesture 
of his hand, he waved her toward a seat in 
the middle row. It was not her accustomed 
place of sitting. She looked about her. 
There seemed to have been a general scat¬ 
tering. Each member of the class sat alone, 
isolated so far as the size of the room per¬ 
mitted. The reason for this Elizabeth did 
not understand, but attributed it to the ec¬ 
centricities of an examination of which she 
had heard much. The examination ques¬ 
tions, printed upon little slips, were handed 
to each student. Previously each young 
lady had been cautioned about providing 
herself with all necessary articles. Eliza¬ 
beth had conscientiously heeded the caution. 
The top of her desk had the appearance of 
a department of a small stationery store. 

She began her work. Dr. Kitchell walked 


192 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


up and down the room, never once turning 
his eyes from them. Miss Brosius rubbed 
her eye-glasses, and seating herself at the 
end of the room, kept her gaze fixed upon 
the back of the students’ heads. Such 
scrutiny was not calculated to make one feel 
at ease. Bor one hour no sound save the 
moving of pencils was heard. Then Miss 
Brosius spoke. “I have a class the next 
period, Dr. Kitchell,” she said. “I can stay 
no longer.” 

“Miss Worden will be here in one mo¬ 
ment to relieve you,” was the reply. “She 
has a physical geography class in Boom C. 
It will not detain her long.” 

Even as he spoke, Miss Worden, out of 
breath with her hurry, entered and took 
Miss Brosius’ place, while that instructor 
hurried off to her class-room. 

Elizabeth paused in her demonstration. 
Here was a problem new to her. Why 
could not Miss Brosius leave until Miss 
Worden came in, and why did Dr. Kitchell 
stride up and down, up and down, never for 


AT EXETER HALL. 


193 


an instant removing his keen eyes from the 
class before him? 

In the daily intercourse with her parents, 
she had asked questions freely. She did 
now as she would have done with them. As 
Dr. Kitchell passed her desk, she spoke to 
him: 

“I could not help hearing what Miss 
Brosius said to you about leaving the room, 
and wondered what she meant. ” 

“It is impossible for me to see all the stu¬ 
dents. Unfortunately, I do not have eyes 
in the back of my head.” 

Elizabeth met his glance with a look of 
surprise. 

Dr. Kitchell then spoke more plainly. 
“I am quite determined there shall be no 
cheating in my classes. My students 
will pass on their own merits—or not at 
aU.” 

“And Miss Brosius then—” she paused, 
not feeling confident enough of the situation 
to put her feelings into words. 

“Miss Brosius is here to assist me, and to 


194 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


see there is no copying, no cheating done in 
the class.” 

Now Dr. Kitchell was an excellent man, 
an able instructor, but he had a blunt way 
of expressing himself. Elizabeth’s face 
flushed and then grew pale. For one in¬ 
stant her lips quivered and her eyes filled. 
But she quickly controlled herself, and be¬ 
gan putting together her papers. Arising, 
she was about to quit the room. 

“Have you finished, Miss Hobart?” 

“No, I have not.” Elizabeth, spoke 
quietly. One could have no suspicion of the 
fire that lay smoldering beneath. 

“Finish and hand me the papers before 
you leave the room. That has always been 
the rule at Exeter.” 

“I do not intend to finish, or to hand in 
my papers.” Although she spoke quietly, 
her voice was heard over the class-room. 
Each student paused with uplifted pencil in 
her hand. For the most part, Dr. Kitchell 
was feared. Few would have dared oppose 
him. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


195 


“And why not, may I ask?” 

“Because I will not stay and take an ex¬ 
amination where we are treated as though 
we were criminals. Having a watch set 
upon us is an insult to every honest student 
in the class. Until I have proved myself 
to be either a liar or a thief, I insist upon 
being treated with respect. That is why I 
will not stay to take an examination under 
police supervision.” 

Dr. Kitchell was a big man. Elizabeth 
looked so childish and little as she stood be¬ 
fore him that he could not suppress a smile. 
He rather admired the spunky little lady 
who dared to express her opinion so freely. 
Yet discipline must be maintained. “You 
will report to Dr. Morgan,” he replied. 

“I certainly shall,” was the rejoinder, as 
she quitted the room. 

In this whirl of indignation and hurt 
pride, she entered her room and found 
Mary there. 

“I was coming for you, Elizabeth,” she 
said. “Here’s a telegram for you.” She 


196 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


held out the yellow envelope. “I hope there 
is nothing serious the matter. ” 

Elizabeth tore it open before Maiy fin¬ 
ished speaking, and read it quickly. 

“It’s from father,” she said. “I do not 
understand it.” She handed the paper to 
Mary. “You know I was to start for home 
Saturday morning.” 

Mary read it aloud: 

“Do not start home. Letter follows. Every one 
well. Business reason for waiting.” 

“Nothing to worry about in that. My 
father has often sent me just such word. 
Perhaps business calls him away. You see 
he says every one is well.” 

“And he would not say that unless it were 
absolutely true,” said Elizabeth with con¬ 
viction. 

“You’ll have the letter by to-morrow’s 
mail. It’s something pleasant, depend 
upon it.” 

“I hope so.” She sank down despond¬ 
ently into a chair and rested her head upon 


AT EXETER HALL. 


197 


the study-table. “I wish something pleas¬ 
ant would happen. This is ‘blue’ week for 
me. Yesterday I became excited and al¬ 
most said too much, and to-day I rush madly 
in and mix up affairs in the math, exams. 
I told Dr. Kitehell what I thought of his 
method of conducting them.” 

Mary’s eyes grew bright. They fairly 
danced in surprise at Elizabeth’s action. 

“Why, even I would not have dared do 
that,” she said. “I have dared everything 
at Exeter hut Dr. Kitehell. I would as 
soon think of going to Dr. Morgan and tell¬ 
ing her that I do not approve of her method 
of conducting Exeter.” 

“That is about what I will do next,” said 
Elizabeth dolefully. “When one begins 
anything like this, there is no telling where 
she will end. Oh, dear, I’ll be glad to get 
home where people know me, and don’t act 
as though they expect me to lie or steal.” 

“No one thinks that here, Elizabeth. 
You’ve run up against a snag. We all have 
our blue days when we wish we were some- 


198 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


where else, and when we have a poor opin¬ 
ion of every one, ourselves included. ” 

“You never do.” 

“Yes, often, but I found it didn’t pay to 
give up to them. Come, tell me all the trou¬ 
ble, and when it’s all told you may find 
there’s very little of it.” 

“I wish I could think so. I’ll tell you, 
Mary, and then I’ll go and see Dr. Morgan. 
I’m to report immediately to her.” 

She proceeded with her tale of woe. And 
although her listener was sympathetic, she 
laughed heartily during the recital. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES. 

On going to the office, Elizabeth found 
that Dr. Morgan had been called unexpect¬ 
edly to the city, and would not return for 
several days. She was disappointed, as she 
much preferred having the thing over and 
done with than hanging fire for several 
days. The girls crowded about her, ex¬ 
pressing both admiration and criticism and 
offering advice until Elizabeth did not know 
whether she was a culprit or a heroine. 
The maddening part of it was that she must 
wait three days to find out. Her own opin¬ 
ion in regard to being “policed” into hon¬ 
esty had not changed. She felt confident of 
the support of her father in the position she 
had taken. She knew how, from the bot¬ 
tom of his heart, he abhorred any question- 
199 


200 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


ing of one’s honor. The more she listened 
to the talk of the other girls, the more in¬ 
dignant she was at the insult. 

She was not one to give expression to her 
feeling in words only. After her remarks 
to Dr. Kitchell, the other girls did most of 
the talking while she listened, turning the 
matter over in her mind. She had. her 
father’s way of straightening matters out. 
“If a thing is wrong, make it right—if you 
can,” she had often heard him say to Joe 
Eatowsky. Her four months at Exeter had 
taught her there were people of words and 
people of action. It was of the last-named 
class she selected her helpers. Landis was 
not to be considered. It is doubtful if she 
could have given a reason for the feeling 
that she would be of no assistance in a re¬ 
form movement. It was merely intuition 
and could not be put into words. Min, too, 
who was but the shadow of Landis, was to 
be barred. There was enough to begin with 
—Anna Cresswell, Nancy Eckdahl, Mary 


AT EXETER HALL. 


201 


Wilson, Mame Welch, Nora O’Day, strange 
to say, and herself. 

At the dinner table, Elizabeth passed the 
word around asking the girls to come to her 
room immediately at the ringing of the 
study bell. Some of the students were al¬ 
ready packing to leave for the holidays; and 
after the mid-winter examinations, no strict 
observance was paid to study hours. 

Miss Brosius heard the invitation and 
smiled. She was learning to know Miss 
Hobart. After the experience of the morn¬ 
ing, she felt these summonses might be fol¬ 
lowed by a declaration of war. Her posi¬ 
tion in regard to overseeing examinations 
was more distasteful to her than it could 
possibly be to any of the students. But 
from time immemorial such had been the 
custom of most schools. There must have 
been a reason for it. No doubt, it had been 
forced upon the instructors by the attitude 
of the students themselves. New condi¬ 
tions may have arisen, but the old law still 
held. 


202 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“There’s something brewing,” Miss Bros- 
ius said to Miss "Watson as they quitted the 
dining-hall. “If I read the stars aright, 
Exeter Hall will be reformed before Dr. 
Morgan returns from the city.” 

“She comes to-morrow.” 

“Maybe. Reforms have started in less 
than twenty-four hours. The fuel has been 
ready for several years, waiting for some¬ 
one to apply the match.” 

“Who is doing that now?” 

“Elizabeth Hobart, if I am not mistaken. 
Did you not notice the flash of her eyes and 
the message she was passing about to have 
the girls meet in her room?” 

“Yes; but I thought it was nothing more 
than a taffy pull.” 

“It is a deep-laid plot to reform us all. I 
must give her credit in the selection of her 
colleagues. She has picked those who will 
carry her plans through if they once see fit 
to accept them. Oh, no, don’t be alarmed,” 
as she noticed Miss Watson’s expression, 
“there may come some good from it; no evil 


AT EXETER HALL. 


203 


at least, I’m sure. It may be a good thing 
to have them talk the matter over.” Then 
she related the events of the morning. 

The girls did not know the reason for 
their being called together. Nora O’Day, 
to Elizabeth’s surprise, made no objections, 
Elizabeth having explained fully that it was 
not a social but a purely business meeting. 
Nora came in after the others had gathered. 
With a nod to them collectively, she took 
her place before the grate. 

Elizabeth stated the reason of the gath¬ 
ering. She related the scene of the morn¬ 
ing. 

“You know I never was in an examina¬ 
tion before,” she said. “You have no idea 
how it impressed me. To think of having 
two and three teachers in the room to watch 
us! Why, it seemed to me it was the most 
insulting thing possible.” 

“That is because it is new to you. It 
really was not meant that way,” Miss Cress- 
well explained. “But you must bear this 
in mind—school life is just like outside life. 


204 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


There are some students who are dishonest. 
There’s no getting around that fact. And 
because of those few, we must all be put un¬ 
der surveillance.” 

Elizabeth was not to be convinced. “I do 
not see why. I felt this morning in class 
just as I would if I had gone into Dr. Mor¬ 
gan’s room and she had immediately locked 
up her jewelry and her purse. Surely, the 
teachers themselves must have learned by 
this time who can be trusted and who can 
not! Suppose among the fifty girls in our 
room this morning, there were one or two 
who cheated. I think it would have been 
far better to allow them to go their way 
than have treated us all like criminals. 
What great difference would it make any¬ 
how? They would be the only losers; and 
as to being watched, how is that going to 
make them any better?” 

Mary Wilson shook back her hair. Her 
eyes were beginning to flash. As Elizabeth 
discussed the question, her enthusiasm grew. 

“It makes them worse—far worse. If 


AT EXETER HALL. 


205 


there is anything in the world that would 
make me cheat it is being watched to see 
that I didn’t. I’d do it then just to prove 
that I could be sharper than they.” 

They talked the matter over thoroughly, 
each one, with the exception of Nora O’Day, 
expressing herself freely. She sat silent; 
but her silence did not spring from lack of 
interest. She listened keenly to every word, 
and weighed it fully before she accepted it. 
Elizabeth wondered at her, for she was not 
naturally quiet. The others understood, 
and did not ask for her opinion. 

Elizabeth had gained one point. The 
girls did not treat Miss O’Day with that 
studied formality which is more galling than 
open neglect as they had on former occa¬ 
sions. Mary, in particular, was quite agree¬ 
able, and Nora herself more at ease. 

Elizabeth had a plan for this reformation. 
She was not attempting the impossible. 
Her idea was practical. Even Miss Cress- 
well declared it to be wise. 

“Will you be secretary, Miss Cresswell, 


206 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


and jot down our plan?” asked Elizabeth. 

She moved to the study-table, taking up a 
pencil and tablet ready for work. “What 
have you decided to do about talking with 
the girls ?” she asked. “Will you call them 
all together and present this plan to them?” 

“No; my idea was to interview each one 
by herself. It seems so much more per¬ 
sonal than talking to them all together. I 
think they will take it so; I’m sure I 
should.” 

“Perhaps so. But it will mean a great 
deal of work.” 

“We will not object to the work,” said 
Mary Wilson, “if we only succeed in carry¬ 
ing out Elizabeth’s idea.” 

The details were further discussed. Then 
they began to apportion a certain section of 
the Hall for each girl to visit. 

“We need not visit them all. Each new 
recruit will be put to work to get other sign¬ 
ers.” 

Anna Cresswell continued her writing. 
At last she spoke. “We will have this run 


AT EXETER HALL. 


B07 


off on the typewriter. Listen. Is this just 
what you intend, Elizabeth?” She read: 

“We, the undersigned students of Exeter 
Hall, not being contented with the present 
method of conducting examinations, believ¬ 
ing that it casts reflections upon the honor of 
each student, do hereby suggest a means of 
reformation. We pledge ourselves individ¬ 
ually to receive no assistance at such times. 
Furthermore, we will quietly but firmly dis¬ 
countenance among the students any meth¬ 
ods not strictly honorable. 

“We respectfully request Dr. Morgan to 
have examinations conducted hereafter 
without the presence of instructors, we 
pledging ourselves that under our supervi¬ 
sion they will reflect credit both upon Exeter 
and the students/’ 

“You have done it beautifully. My 
father could not have done it better,” said 
Elizabeth. “Now we must get the names 
of the best girls at Exeter.” 

“Don’t have a name of one who does not 
mean to keep her pledge,” advised Miss 


208 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Cresswell. “ Fifty people in earnest are 
worth more than an hundred, half of whom 
veer with the wind.” 

“But as Anna Cresswell said before,” be¬ 
gan Mary Wilson excitedly, “there will be 
some who will cheat. What will we do?” 

“Most of the girls will agree to this, and 
the majority can be depended upon to do as 
they pledge themselves. If yon keep your 
eyes open in the class-room, you can soon 
discover who has no sense of honor. These 
may be taken quietly aside and spoken to. 
If they transgress a second time, we will 
make the affair public.” This advice came 
from Miss Cresswell. 

At the close of her speech, Marne Welch 
arose. “If we don’t scatter soon, the lights 
will be out, and I do not care to wander 
down the staircase in the dark. I did it 
once, and I had a bump on my head for a 
week. One’s head is not the best ‘lighting’ 
place. Come, Carrie Hirsch, you go my 
way. If the lights go out, we will fall to¬ 
gether.” Slipping her arm through Car- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


209 


rie’s, and bidding the others good-night, she 
quitted the room. 

Miss Cresswell and Nancy followed, with 
cheery words to encourage Mary and Eliza¬ 
beth for to-morrow’s work. Nora O’Day 
remained. She was quite a striking figure 
as she stood leaning with her elbow against 
the mantel, looking down into the grate. As 
always, she was richly dressed. Her loose 
robe of crimson silk, her dark hair hanging 
in a single braid, and her olive-tinted skin 
presented a glowing picture. 

“I waited until the others left,” she said, 
“to speak to you alone, Elizabeth. I have 
been wishing to for several days, but you 
were so busy, I didn’t feel that I could take 
you from your work.” 

“You can talk together here. I am going 
into the bedroom,” said Mary, making ready 
to disappear. 

“No; I do not wish to disturb you. I in¬ 
tended asking Elizabeth to walk to the end 
of the hall with me. I love to sit on the 
window-seat at the landing. The campus is 


210 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


beautiful in the moonlight. No one is dis- 
turbed by the talking there. I think Mrs. 
Schuyler will not mind late hours to-night, 
since we go home to-morrow. Will you 
come, Elizabeth?” 

Yes; wait one minute until I get a wrap. 
That window-seat is full of drafts, I know. 
I have sat there before.” 

Taking down a golf cape, she wrapped it 
about her. ‘‘Come,” she added, drawing 
Miss O’Day’s arm through her own. “We 
will be-night-hawks until Mrs. Schuyler 
finds us. Don’t lock the door, Mary. I’ll 
slip in later.” 

A delightfully broad window-seat filled 
with cushions was at the turn of the stair¬ 
way, where one had a view of the campus, 
now snow covered, beautiful in the glimmer 
of the moonlight. 

Arranging the cushions here to her sat¬ 
isfaction, Nora began the conversation. 
“I heard you talk in the meeting yes¬ 
terday, Elizabeth, and I wish to thank 
you.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


211 


“Why thank me? I only said wlrnt I 
thought.’ ’ 

“Some girls might have done consider¬ 
ably less—to my knowledge some of them 
have. You ran the risk of being unpopu¬ 
lar, and yet you were willing to take that 
risk because you were my friend. That is 
the kind of friendship that is worth having. 
You do not know how pleased, how glad I 
was! Why, I had not been so happy for 
months.” 

“Take the risk! Because I was your 
friend! Well, I must be awfully dense, but 
really, Nora, I haven’t the faintest idea 
what you are trying to say.” 

“You say that to escape my thanks—my 
gratitude. That is just your way. I might 
have expected as much. You do a generous, 
noble deed and then slip away from the 
gratitude that follows.” 

“Well, it may be my way, and it may not. 
I do not know what you are talking about. 
If I have done what you call a generous, no¬ 
ble deed, this is the first I have heard of it. 


212 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


If your mind is still upon the speech I made 
yesterday, you may he sure there was noth¬ 
ing noble about that. Why, you have no 
idea how angry I was! It made me so in¬ 
dignant to hear some explain what should 
be done and how. I didn’t approve of their 
plans at all, so the only thing left for me to 
do was to say what I thought about it. It 
is news to me that being indignant and ex¬ 
pressing yourself rather—well, rather forci¬ 
bly, is noble and generous. Though,” 
dryly, “I’m rather glad it is so, for it will 
be easy for me to be noble in that fashion.” 

Miss O’Day turned to look closely at her. 

“Really, Elizabeth, upon your honor now, 
did you really not have me in mind when 
you made that speech yesterday?” 

“I did not, ’pon honor,” she laughed 
softly. Then she gave Miss O’Day’s hand 
a very loving squeeze to mitigate the hurt 
her next words might contain. “It may be 
rather galling to your pride, but I did not 
even think of you after we entered the meet¬ 
ing, although I suppose you must have been 


AT EXETER HALL. 


213 


sitting by me. I was all eyes and ears for 
what was going on np front. I suppose you 
might add all mouth, too, for that matter.** 

“Then you did not know what happened 
here last spring'? Did none of the girls tell 
you^” 

“I do not know what particular happen¬ 
ings you have in mind. But no one told me 
of anything that was unusual.** 

“Well, then I shall tell you. It was not 
until last evening that I felt that I could 
talk the matter over with any one; but after 
you spoke as you did, I knew that you could 
understand. I have borne it so long with¬ 
out letting any one know, that it is a relief 
to think I can tell just how I feel, and how 
awful these months at Exeter have been. I 
might have gone somewhere else this fall 
and not returned at all; but when I thought 
it over, it seemed to me that it would be 
cowardly to slip away like that. Last sum¬ 
mer I wrote to Dr. Morgan that I intended 
returning. Then I made up my mind that 
I would stay here until I made every one 


214 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


at Exeter, from Dr. Morgan down to the 
dining-hall girls, respect me.” She paused, 
then added slowly, “But I don’t seem to 
have made much headway yet.” 

There was a sadness in the girl’s voice 
which embarrassed Elizabeth. She knew 
that Nora O’Day was sad—had known that 
for a long time. She would have been glad 
to express sympathy, say some word which 
would show confidence in her companion, 
but she was so new to anything of this sort 
that she could do nothing but sit silent and 
look at her. Then she suddenly blurted 
out: 

“I do not know what you are talking 
about! Tell me, Nora. I fancy it is not 
really so bad as you think. ’ ’ 

“I do not see how it could be worse! 
Perhaps, when I tell you, you will feel as 
the others. If you do, don’t stop to explain 
and give all kinds of reasons for your ac¬ 
tions. Just walk off, and I will under¬ 
stand that you do not care to be friends 
with me. I’ll not be surprised. Indeed, I 


AT EXETER HALL. 


215 


rather expect you to do just that thing— 
yet, after all, you have always been differ¬ 
ent/ ’ 

“Well, wait until I walk off. I may not. 
Dollars to doughnuts, the ‘awful’ thing you 
have done is partly imaginary. The girls 
are all right, and I love some of them; but 
even that doesn’t make me think them in¬ 
fallible. But you sit there and hint about 
a dreadful deed you have done. One would 
think you were little less than a female Cap¬ 
tain Kidd. There are cold chills running 
up and down my spine now, so begin quick 
and tell me everything.” 

“Last spring, I went into the geometry 
examination and took my book with me. I 
copied three theorems, letter for letter, 
right out of the book. A half-dozen girls 
saw me—Mary Wilson, Nancy, Carrie 
Hirsch, Marne Welch, Landis and Min. 
That same evening the girls met and 
decided to cut me. We had all been 
friends.” 

“I didn’t think Mary or Nancy would 


m 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


have done that—meet and talk over such a 
matter in public.” 

“They didn’t. Neither would Carrie or 
Marne. I know none of the four were at 
the meeting. I think each one of them 
thought the matter over and decided for her¬ 
self. They speak to me at the table and 
any school meetings. But that is a small 
part of Exeter life. They never enter my 
room or invite me into theirs.” 

“Who called the meeting of the girls?” 
Elizabeth asked. 

“Min Kean. I am positive of that, be¬ 
cause the notices were signed by her. That 
is required before any meeting can be held. 
Then Dr. Morgan knows where to place the 
responsibility.” 

Elizabeth gave a gesture of disapproval. 
She was about to speak, but checked herself, 
deciding that criticism was not going to 
help the matter. Nora noticed her hesi¬ 
tancy, and attributed it to a different mo¬ 
tive. 

“What were you going to say? Do not 


AT EXETER HALL. 


217 


hesitate. I deserve criticism. I am not 
afraid to hear it.” 

“It was not a criticism of yon. I was 
thinking that Min Kean must have been a 
different person last term. I could not, al¬ 
though I stretched my imagination to its 
limit, think of her as taking the lead in any 
matter. What part did Landis take?” 

“I do not know. No one ventured to tell 
me and I would not ask. Before we left 
Exeter in the spring, she came into my room 
and stayed almost all of the evening. She 
told me that she thought the girls acted im¬ 
pulsively, and that she had done what she 
could to have them wait and consider; but 
she was only one among many. She was 
acting-president at that meeting.” 

“Where was Anna Cresswell?” 

“She was here, but would not attend. 
Someone told me that she refused to be pres¬ 
ent.” 

“ Did Landis ever come again to see you ? ’ ’ 

“Very often this semester. I have all 
the essays and papers my mother wrote 


218 ELIZABETH HOBART 

when she was a student at Arlington Semi¬ 
nary. People who remember her say she 
was gifted in that line. Of course, I do not 
know, for she died when I was a baby. 
Somehow I never had the heart to read 
them, although I have saved every one. 
Landis says they are quite good, and Landis, 
you know, has some ability in that line her¬ 
self." 

Elizabeth smiled. She was beginning to 
understand. New ideas burst upon her 
suddenly. Unconscious of the meaning 
which might be given to her words, she said, 
“Pm just beginning to learn that it is not 
wise to take any one’s opinion in regard to 
any one else. You must trust and be de¬ 
ceived, and trust again, and just go on learn¬ 
ing people for yourself. Did Anna. Cress- 
well never come to see you ? I should think 
she would since she refused to attend the 
meeting." 

“She came twice to ask me to go some¬ 
where with her, once for a drive, and once 
to walk, but each time I refused. I felt so 


AT EXETER HALL. 


219 


badly that I had no courage to go out among 
the girls. It was only a few weeks before 
we were to go home. I made up my mind 
to bear it until school was out and then not 
come back. But I changed my mind, as I 
told you. She did not ask me again. But 
I did not expect that for she is very busy 
with extra work. I suppose she thinks it 
has all passed away. She doesn’t run about 
to spreads and high teas, so she may not 
have discovered that I am not among those 
present.” 

Elizabeth was silent. She was thinking, 
not of her companion’s misdeed, but of the 
part which Landis had probably played 
throughout the affair. Nora waited for her 
to speak, but receiving no answer put an¬ 
other question. 

“Are you, too, so disgusted with me that 
you can’t bear to speak of it?” 

“No,” slowly, “I am not disgusted. But 
you certainly cannot expect me to grow en¬ 
thusiastic or praise you for cheating. I 
don’t like dishonesty in any form; but I do 


220 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


not know that it is my place to pass judg¬ 
ment on you. I may criticise that in you; 
someone else will find something to criticise 
in me. One thing I am quite sure of. You 
are sorry as sorry can be that you did it; 
and you will never be guilty of cheating 
again, even if you know that you will fail 
and be compelled to go to school here for¬ 
ever/ J 

“You may be sure of that. One experi¬ 
ence ended such methods for me.” There 
was nothing conciliatory in her tone. 

“I will be honest with you, Nora. I am 
disappointed in you, but I’m glad you told 
me. You may be quite sure this will make 
no difference in our friendship.” 

Much to Elizabeth’s surprise, Nora, in¬ 
stead of replying, began to sob, and it was 
some minutes before she could speak. 

“I appreciate this, Elizabeth. I know I 
did wrong, and I have spent six months in 
being sorry. Yet I do not believe I should 
be censured so much as some of you if you 
had done the same thing. That is rather 


AT EXETER HALL. 


221 


an odd thing to say, I know. But when I 
tell you all, you will understand just what 
I mean. My mother died when I was a few 
weeks old. She belonged to an excellent 
family, an only child. Somehow,” the girl 
hesitated. It was difficult to explain with¬ 
out seeming critical of one parent. ‘ ‘ Some¬ 
how, my father never cared much for what 
mother cared for most. He could not see 
anything wrong in cards, and wine-parties, 
and things like that. When mother died 
grandmother Loraine took me. But she did 
not live long. Then I went back home and 
lived with a housekeeper and the servants. 
Sometimes they were honest and sometimes 
not. Mrs. Gager took charge of me. She 
was a very clean old German woman and 
not afraid of work, but was not refined. 
She couldn’t even read. I am not complain¬ 
ing, for she was as good to me as she knew 
how to be. Nothing that I wanted was too 
much trouble. She was really my slave, 
and made every one around the house step 
when I spoke. 


222 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“I was a little tyrant. Father spent a 
great deal of time from home, for he was a 
very busy man. But he spoiled me, too. I 
had but to stamp my foot and he would let 
me do what I wished. He really could not 
deny me anything, and he doesn’t yet. You 
see, I am the only person in the world he has 
left, and he thinks I am simply wonderful. ’ ’ 
She laughed lightly. “I am always amused 
when I hear him talk to anyone of me. It 
is nice, though, to have someone think of 
you in that way. He is wholly sincere. He 
really believes I’m the brightest and most 
attractive girl at Exeter. 

“Mrs. Gager used to drink occasionally. 
At such times—I must have been eight years 
old—she told me what excuses to make to 
father for her and how to keep Maggie, the 
second maid, from knowing it. Strange as 
it may seem, this old woman was my ideal. 
I never hesitated to carry her false mes¬ 
sages, and there was a constant succession 
of small deceptions. When I was able to 
fool Maggie, I was commended. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


223 


“When I grew older, I met a great num¬ 
ber of business men—some of whom were 
my father's traveling salesmen. And they 
always made a point of telling how sharp 
they had been in their transactions. I know 
now that they were merely dishonest. I do 
not know whether father approved or not. 
They told these stories to entertain me and 
not when they were talking business with 
him. 

“Father was always liberal. I spend as 
much as I wish. He never questions how, 
but gives me whatever I ask. 

“The conversation I generally heard 
among the servants—and I spent most of 
my time with them—was comments on how 
well or how shabby some one dressed, and 
how much or how little money people had. 
Don’t blame my father for neglecting me. 
He hired the best servants he could, and did 
what he thought was for my good. I was 
well clothed and fed; and Mrs. Grager took 
excellent care of my health. His business 
kept him away from home. And, anyhow, 


224 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


men are not like women. A woman would 
have understood at once that I needed some¬ 
thing more than clothes and food.” 

“I suppose we can’t understand,” said 
Elizabeth. “I’m sure I don’t. I’ve always 
had a mother. She would punish me se¬ 
verely if I ever deceived anyone. My 
father, too, and Miss Hale are the same way. 
I was brought up to abhor anything that 
wasn’t honest. But, then,” reflectively, 
“I’ll not take much credit to myself for that. 
It was my training—not me. If I’m truth¬ 
ful and all that, it’s because of my parents.” 

“If I saw no great harm in copying my 
examinations, it is because I had been no bet¬ 
ter taught. It was a surprise to learn that 
every one looked upon such an act with con¬ 
tempt. I would not do such a thing now. 
Not because I wish to curry favor with Mary 
Wilson and her set, but because I feel it is 
wrong.” She paused awhile and then con¬ 
tinued, “I think I am like the Loraines in 
that. My mother would have died before 
she would have knowingly done wrong.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


225 


The talk went on in this strain for some 
time. Then Elizabeth spoke of the telegram 
she had received and suggested that she 
might not go home during the holidays. 

Nora offered her sympathy. She did not 
ask Elizabeth where she lived. It was odd 
that, although they were friends, she never 
knew until the close of school that Joseph 
Hobart, the expert mining engineer of Bitu¬ 
men, was Elizabeth’s father. 

It was quite late when Elizabeth slipped 
back into her bedroom. She undressed 
in the dark so that she might not waken 
her roommate, but Mary heard her and 
spoke: 

“You and Nora O’Day must have had a 
great deal to say. ‘ Smiles * has trotted down 
here twice inquiring for you.” 

“What did you tell her?” 

“That I was not your keeper. I think 
she will interview you privately to-mor¬ 
row.” 

“Mary, there’s something I wish to ask 
you. At the meeting last spring, who was 


226 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


it that worked up the case against Nora 
O’Day?” 

“ Landis. Why?” 

“Oh, because. Are you sure? Did she 
take an active part?” 

“Yes; I’m sure. Could you imagine a 
meeting where Landis didn’t put in her oar ? 
Why do you ask?” 

“Because I wanted to know.” 

“An excellent reason,” was the sleepy re¬ 
sponse. 

“But, Mary—” But Mary was asleep. 


CHAPTER IX. 

joe’s message. 

After breakfast the following morning, 
Elizabeth was summoned to the reception- 
hall where Joe Ratowsky awaited her. He 
stood twisting his hat about as she entered. 
The expansive smile which covered his 
swarthy face was not so much one of good¬ 
will as embarrassment. He stood in the 
center of the room so that by no possible 
chance could he touch any article of furni¬ 
ture. Joe was no coward. He had per¬ 
formed heroic parts when mobs of miners 
and the militia, during the big strikes, met 
in conflict. But the thought of sitting down 
on chairs upholstered in satin of dainty col¬ 
ors made the cold chills run up and down 
his spine. 

It was cruel in Elizabeth to shake his 
227 


228 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


hand so long and so vigorously, even though 
she was glad to see him. And it was worse 
than cruel to keep pushing easy chairs be¬ 
fore him and insisting upon him sitting 
down. Elizabeth insisted, and in despera¬ 
tion Joe took a letter from his pocket and 
thrust it before her. 

“Mees-ter Hobart, he write—he write 
heap—b’gosh.” 

“He isn’t sick, Joe, is he?” 

“Sick!” Joe grunted his disgust at the 
thought of anyone being sick. “He veil, so 
well—he get fat, b’gosh, so fat, Meester 
O ’Hay, he look like pole he come long Mees¬ 
ter Hobart, b’gosh.” 

Joe nodded his head vigorously, a habit he 
had of emphasizing any statement he wished 
to make particularly strong. Elizabeth 
could not restrain a smile at the compari¬ 
son. 

“Is mother well, too, Joe?” Joe nodded 
vigorously while he wiped his brow. 

“She well like the tivil, b’gosh. Yes, 
b’gosh, she so well as that.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


229 


“Well, then, Joe, why is it they do not 
wish me to go home?’’ 

Joe flung out his hand as though what he 
was about to say was a mere trifle, not 
worthy her consideration. 

“The miner—not so glad, b’gosh. They 
no work—no—no work. They say they tear 
up railroad, b’gosh. Meester Hobart, he 
say, 4 No tear up road.’ Joe Ratowsky, he 
say , 4 No tear up road. ’ All time keep watch 
so no tear up road. You not come, Mebbe 
no road, mebbe all right, b’gosh.” 

4 4 A strike, Joe ? Do you mean the miners 
threaten to destroy the road ? ’ ’ He nodded. 

44 No strike now, b’gosh. Colowski, he 
say, 4 Strike.’ Then all say, 4 Strike.’ Joe 
Ratowsky, he give him one between his eyes 
like this.” He doubled up his fist, showing 
how peace had been restored. 4 4 He no say 
strike then. He crawl off. He no come 
round for day and day.” 

44 Did they go back to work then?” Eliz¬ 
abeth was excited. All her life she had 
heard of the horrors of a prolonged strike. 


830 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


From childhood she had a dim recollection 
of someone taking her from her warm bed, 
and running across fields, seeking safety 
miles away. As in a dream, she could hear 
the roar of hoarse voices and see the flicker¬ 
ing torches of the mob. 

Joe shook his head slowly. “No, h’gosh. 
They mad like the tivil. They go back some 
day, so many tollars, every day for work. 
No more,” shaking his head in negation, 
“No, no more, b’gosh.” 

Elizabeth grew anxious. She seized Mr 
Ratowsky’s coat sleeve. 

“But, Joe, tell me truly, is my father in 
danger ? They won’t hurt him ?’’ 

B gosh, no. He safe like anything. 
They no mad like the tivil at him , Emerv 
they mad at.” J 

“Is Mr. Emery there?” Again Joe shook 
his head. “Meester Emery, he go over 
ocean. He no come back, mebbe so long till 
summer. When he come back, the miners 
so mad they treat him like the tivil, b ’gosh. ” 

This Mr. Emery, of whom he spoke, was 


AT EXETER HALL. 231 

one of the operators of the soft-coal region; 
a man who visited the miners once in a dozen 
years and of whom his workmen knew little. 

Joe had evidently been instructed how 
much to tell Elizabeth in regard to the trou¬ 
ble. Being assured that her father was not 
in danger, her mind turned toward the let¬ 
ter, her eyes following her thoughts. 

“I go back quick. I tell Meester Hobart 
you look well like everything.” He shook 
his head vigorously to assure her how fine a 
message he would carry. “I will, b’gosh,” 
he repeated. 

He made his way to the door, keeping his 
eyes upon the chairs and tables in his path. 
He sighed with relief when he had passed 
them, and saw a line of retreat open before 
him. He continued to repeat the message 
he would carry to her father. 

“Grow so tall likes nothing. He will be 
so glad like the tivil. I tells him so. Yes, 
he will, b’gosh.” These were his parting 
words as the door closed upon him. 

The greater number of the girls in the 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


232 

dormitory hall had packed or were packing 
their trunks. The hallway was obstructed 
with baggage of all descriptions, awaiting 
the coming of Jimmy Jordan and his train 
of helpers. 

Mary Wilson was to leave Exeter immedi¬ 
ately after lunch. She had begun her prep¬ 
arations before breakfast. Elizabeth, tak¬ 
ing it for granted that their rooms would 
yet be in confusion, went down to the win¬ 
dow-seat where she and Nora had sat the 
night before, in order to read her letter in 
quiet. There was nothing unusual in it— 
nothing to startle her, at least; the home 
news was told with her father’s usual buoy¬ 
ant spirit. If he were harassed or annoyed, 
his letter writing did not show it. It was 
not until all the bright little bits of home 
life had been related that he mentioned the 
trouble at the mines—just a little local trou¬ 
ble, nothing general. Both her mother and 
he thought it best that she should not go up 
the mountain railroad this time of year. 
There was nothing at all to alarm her. She 


AT EXETER HALL. 


233 


was to spend her holidays with any one of 
the girls whom Dr. Morgan advised. It was 
difficult on account of the snow to get the 
mails through. She must not be anxious if 
her accustomed letter did not arrive on 
time. 

As was her habit with home letters, Eliz¬ 
abeth read and re-read it. She was slipping 
it back into its envelope when Landis and 
Min appeared. Both were dressed for trav¬ 
eling. They stopped to enquire of Eliza¬ 
beth when she expected to leave Exeter, be¬ 
ing surprised to see her sitting there in her 
school dress when the others were either 
packing or already leaving. She told them 
the possibility of her remaining at the Hall 
for the holiday season. At this Landis 
wrinkled her brow in perplexity, and pon¬ 
dered awhile in deep thought. 

“I was trying to see my way clear to ask 
you to go with me to The Beeches—my 
home, so called because of the magnificent 
trees which grow near our residence. But 
I do not see how I can manage it now. I do 


234 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


wish I had known about this sooner. I 
might have been able to arrange matters 
somehow. I do not like the idea of your 
being here alone. Exeter is dull with the 
girls gone. It’s really unbearable. But I 
have arranged to go home with Min until 
the day before Christmas. We always have 
a big family party for that day, and our 
home is filled. I suppose we could tuck you 
in somewhere—if you do not object to the 
third floor.” 

“Oh, do not think of it, I beg you,” be¬ 
gan Elizabeth hurriedly. Somehow Exeter 
without company seemed better to her 
than The Beeches with Landis. “I would 
not for the world cause you any inconveni¬ 
ence. Besides, the matter is in the hands 
of Dr. Morgan. I must do as she de¬ 
cides.” 

“Well, I hope she will see fit to send you 
off somewhere. Come to think of it, I do 
believe I could not let you have even a third 
floor room. Our cook always takes the 
privilege of asking in some of her relations, 


AT EXETER HALL. 


235 


and that leaves no space unfilled. I wish it 
were otherwise.’’ 

“ You are kind to think of it. But I could 
not go in any event. I must go hack to my 
room now. Mary is deep in her packing 
and will need me. When do you leave?” 

“Not until afternoon. But we are going 
into the city. Shall we see you before we 
leave?” 

“I think not.” 

Good-byes were said, and Elizabeth went 
to her room. She was disappointed at not 
being able to go home, but had no fear of a 
possible strike, or any danger to her father. 
Joe Ratowsky had reassured her, and be¬ 
sides her faith in her own father made her 
confident. There was no question in her 
mind about his being popular with the min¬ 
ers. He had been not only their superin¬ 
tendent, but physician, friend and banker. 

Having packed her trunk so full that the 
lid would not close, Mary was jumping up 
and down on it when Elizabeth entered. 
She hailed her with an exclamation of de- 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


light. “I’m so glad you weigh something! 
Come, sit on my trunk while I turn the key. 
I can get the lid down, but it springs open 
the instant I get off, and I cannot stand up 
there and turn the key at the same time. I 
have been bouncing on it for the last half- 
hour.” 

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
bright from her strenuous efforts. Eliza¬ 
beth did as requested. The trunk closed 
with a snap. 

“And now,” asked Mary, “when do you 
begin to pack? I suppose your Polish 
friend brought you news from home. I hur¬ 
ried to get my belongings out of the way that 
you might begin.” 

“Not until next June,” was the reply. 
Then sitting down on the trunk beside Mary, 
she related the messages which Joe had 
brought, and the advice which her father’s 
letter contained. 

Mary listened without comment until the 
story was finished. Then she tossed back 
her hair, and without a word hurried to the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


237 


door, flung it open with a great disregard 
for the amount of noise she was making and 
began hauling in Elizabeth’s trunk. 

“You have just three hours to pack, dress, 
eat and get down to the station,” she said, 
unbuckling straps and removing trays as she 
spoke. 

“But — 99 

“Don’t stop to talk or ask questions, or 
say you can’t.” Mary stopped long enough 
to stamp her foot in order to emphasize her 
words. “You’re going home with me. 
We’ll talk it over afterward. We haven’t 
time now. I’ll hear the objections to-mor¬ 
row. Put on your duds, and I’ll pack, while 
you get yourself ready.” 

“But you—” 

“I’m ready except my coat and hat.” 
She was carrying Elizabeth’s clothes from 
the wardrobe, and placing them in the trunk. 
Elizabeth did as she was told without ques¬ 
tioning further. She was only too glad to 
be taken possession of, for the thought of 


238 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Exeter Hall without the girls had not been 
jDleasant. 

The trunk was packed and her dressing 
about completed when Nora O’Day entered. 
She was dressed in a handsome traveling 
suit, the product of a city importer. As 
usual, she carried her lithe, slender body 
proudly, as though no one was quite her 
equal. Elizabeth understood the girl ;iow 
and knew that her defiant attitude was as¬ 
sumed. 

“I’ve come in to say good-bye. I haven’t 
a minute. The cab is waiting for me.” 
She shook hands with Mary. Then turned 
to embrace Elizabeth. There was a great 
deal of affection in her manner toward this 
new friend. “We were talking last night of 
mother’s theses. I put some together for 
you to take with you to read. I really think 
you will enjoy them. I know you will be 
careful of them. I mean to keep them all 
and some day read them over.” She kissed 
Elizabeth again, and with a hurried good¬ 
bye was gone. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


239 


Elizabeth appreciated this remembrance 
more than a gift of greater money value. 
Nora cherished these papers the most of all 
her possessions, and she gave her best when 
she confided them to Elizabeth. Slipping 
them into the tray of the trunk, she turned 
to the mirror to arrange her collar. At last 
turning to Mary, she said, “There, I’m 
clothed and in my right mind, and we yet 
have half an hour. Now we must report to 
Dr. Morgan.” 

“You are evidently clothed,” was the re¬ 
sponse, “but I’m not sure about the right 
mind. Don’t you remember that Dr. Mor¬ 
gan does not return until to-night ? By that 
time we will be home. I’ll speak to Miss 
Brosius as we go down to lunch. She’s the 
high-monkey-monk here when our Ph. D. 
is roaming. We have no time to waste. 
Jordan will see to the trunks and tickets. 
He always does. Put on your wraps. 
We’ll eat our lunch with them on. It is no 
use coming back up-stairs. There are but 


240 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


few of the girls left. We'll bid them good¬ 
bye down-stairs." 

It was not until then that Elizabeth had 
time to think about going to Mary’s home. 
Then she stopped and suddenly put the ques¬ 
tion: “ Perhaps your mother will not want 
me, Mary. She—" 

“Come on! Of course, she’ll want you. 
She is always glad to have company. She 
would not be pleased if I came home and left 
you here alone." 

“But it might inconvenience her," she be¬ 
gan again. 

“Nothing ever inconveniences my mother. 
She won’t allow it to. The only trouble we 
have is that our girls take sudden notions to 
go off and marry, and sometimes we do not 
have anyone to do the work. I think Fanny 
intended being married during the holidays. 
If she does, you and I will have a position 
as dishwasher. Can you wash dishes?" 

“Yes; I always do at home." 

“Well, we may have to do it. But we 
will have a good time. When the servants 


AT EXETER HALL. 


241 


take to themselves wings we all help, and 
such fun as we do have! A little matter 
like that never inconveniences mother. 
Once during court week, our only hotel 
burned. There was a big case on before 
father, and he brought all the witnesses and 
lawyers home. They were there three days. 
Mother seemed to think it was a joke.” 
Then with a look at Elizabeth, she added 
with conviction, “A little bit of a girl like 
you could not inconvenience her.” 

The Wilson home was at Windburne, a 
two hours’ ride from Exeter with a change 
of cars at Ridgway. 

It was extremely cold when the girls left 
the Hall, but before they reached Ridgway 
the mercury had gone several degrees lower. 

The road to Windburne from the Ridg* 
way junction is a local affair, narrow 
gauge, with little rocking cars in which a 
tall person could scarcely stand upright. 
Windburne is the county-seat and conse¬ 
quently a place of importance, but Ridgway 
has little traffic and the roads intersecting 


242 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


there take no pains to make close connec¬ 
tions. 

It was three o’clock in the afternoon 
when the girls reached the junction, a bleak 
little place with a low-roofed station, black 
and dirty. A hotel stood at the corner—a 
rough saloon. An engine with a coach usu¬ 
ally waited on this narrow gauge track, but 
this afternoon there was none. Before she 
entered the waiting-room Miss Wilson 
looked about, expressing her surprise at the 
condition of affairs. 

“The worst is yet to come,” cried a voice 
back of them. The girls turned to discover 
the ticket agent, just about to leave for 
home. 

“The narrow gauge is storm-stayed. 
You will not be able to go through to¬ 
night.” 

“Then we’ll turn about and go to Ex¬ 
eter.” 

“Not to-night. The last train pulled out 
just before No. 10 came in. There’s a hotel 
over there—” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


243 


“Yes, we smelled it,” said Elizabeth seri¬ 
ously. 

He laughed, and inquired where they 
were going. Then he suggested a plan. 
The hotel was not a suitable place in which 
to spend the night, and they could not re¬ 
turn to Exeter; but he would find for them 
a trustworthy driver who would take them 
safely to Windburne. 

There was no choice. Mary accepted his 
offer. The girls staid in the dingy waiting- 
room until he returned with a sleigh, horses 
and driver. 

“This man will take you there safely,” 
he said, with a nod toward the driver. 
“He knows the road and knows, too, how to 
handle horses to get the most out of them.” 
He assisted the girls into the sleigh, tuck¬ 
ing the robes well about them. A moment 
later, they were speeding along the country 
road. The sleighing was fine but the wind 
had a clear sweep over the bare fields, and 
it had grown much colder. They began to 
shiver in spite of their heavy wraps. 


244 ELIZABETH HOBART 

“We are over half-way there,” encour¬ 
aged Mary. “The farmhouse we have 
just passed is six miles from Ridgway. I 
know the roads about here. This is beauti¬ 
ful iu summer time. Landis Stoner lives 
in the last farmhouse along this road. 
After we pass there, we won’t see another 
for five miles, and when we do it will be 
Windburne. There, you can catch a 
glimpse of the place now.” 

“Couldn’t we stop and get warm?” asked 
Elizabeth, her teeth chattering. “My feet 
are numb!” 

“Yes; perhaps it would be better. We’ll 
get Mrs. Stoner to heat bricks for our feet. 
She’s very hospitable, and will make us 
comfortable.” She leaned over to speak to 
the driver, requesting him to stop at the 
Stoner place. 

Elizabeth was too cold to look about her 
as they entered the house. She was con¬ 
scious only that an immense beech was 
stretching its bare boughs before the door¬ 
way, then someone was leading her to an 


AT EXETER HALL. 


245 


easy chair, removing her wraps and rubbing 
her hands to make them warm. In a few 
minutes she was herself. Mrs. Stoner had 
brought them hot coffee, and was now put¬ 
ting bricks into the fireplace. 

Elizabeth looked upon her in surprise. 
This was not the style of woman she had 
pictured in her mind as Landis’ mother. 
She was a faded, slender little body, mild 
and gentle in manner and voice. One felt 
that she was refined and had devoted the 
best of her life to serving others. She w^as 
dressed in a plain dark calico, which had 
seen better days, yet its absolute cleanliness 
and the band of white at her throat gave her 
an air of being well-dressed. 

The room, evidently the best in the house, 
was homey and comfortable. There was an 
open fireplace big enough to accommodate a 
four-foot log, a bright rag carpet, and some 
wooden rockers with easy cushions. The 
windows had white sash curtains. In one 
were pots of blooming geraniums. 

“I have never been at Exeter,” Mrs. 


246 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Stoner said. “Of course, I have heard of 
it all my life. As a young girl, I used to 
dream what a fine thing it would be to go 
there to school. But it was not to be. 
Landis, however, is having that privilege, 
and I am very thankful. Miss Rice—you 
have met her; every one hereabouts has— 
thinks that every girl should have a little 
more than they get in public schools. 
She’s made it possible for Landis to go.” 

Their hostess then brought out some pic¬ 
tures Landis had sent home—kodak views 
of the girls, their rooms, and the campus. 

“You see,” she added with a smile, “al¬ 
though I have never been at Exeter, I know 
it well. Landis writes of the teachers and 
her girl friends until I feel I know them 
thoroughly.” 

As the mother continued, her pale face 
lighting up, Elizabeth saw Landis in a dif¬ 
ferent light. The girl was evidently de¬ 
voted to her mother, if one could judge 
from the numerous letters and the many 
little souvenirs from school displayed. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


247 


“It was dull for Landis here,” she con¬ 
tinued. “ There is no company for miles, 
and only her father and I at home. She 
did not want to leave us. But I told her 
we were used to the quiet and were company 
for each other. I miss her, of course, hut 
it would have been selfish to have kept 
her here. She must live her own life and 
have her own experiences, and I can’t ex¬ 
pect her to be satisfied with what satisfies 
me.” 

The hot coffee had made them comfort¬ 
able; the bricks in the grate were hot, and 
the time had come to start. Solicitous of 
their welfare, Mrs. Stoner brought extra 
wraps, warming them at the open fire, then 
securely pinning them about the girls. She 
came to see them off and Elizabeth, with a 
sudden impulse, kissed her warmly. 

When they were safely in the sleigh again 
and speeding over the frozen roads, she 
turned to Mary with the explanation: “Do 
you know, she’s really homesick to see Lan¬ 
dis? I couldn’t help kissing her; she’s so 


248 ELIZABETH HOBART 

gentle and sweet that I could easily love 
her.” 

She turned her head to catch a last 
glimpse and to wave farewell to the little 
woman standing in the doorway of the hum¬ 
ble home which Landis had called “The 
Beeches.” 


CHAPTER X. 

CLOUDS AND GATHEEING STOEMS, 

Dennis O’Day, as he stood at the door of 
his saloon this autumn afternoon, was an 
excellent advertisement for the line of 
goods he carried. He was big and flabby. 
The skin about his eyes had grown into 
loose sacks; his eyes were a steel-gray, cruel, 
keen, crafty, without a particle of humor or 
affection. He owned the largest brewer¬ 
ies in the state, and controlled numerous 
retail houses where his products were sold. 

His dealings were largely with the foreign 
element. He spoke ready German with its 
various dialects. His name indicated his 
nationality. Though an Irishman he lacked 
the great-heartedness of his countrymen. 
The humor which made their shanties brim¬ 
ming with life and fun was not for him 


250 ELIZABETH HOBART 

He drove the Poles and Slavs who lived 
about Bitumen like a herd of cattle. The 
few who voted, voted as Dennis O ’Day told 
them. The labor problem was discussed 
over his bar. He fixed for them the length 
of day, and the rate per ton. He was the 
bell-sheep for all the foreign herd. In re¬ 
turn for their allegiance, he bailed them out 
of jail when necessary. When Gerani in a 
drunken quarrel, had stabbed the fighting, 
ugly-tempered little Italian, Marino De An¬ 
gelo, it was Dennis who established an alibi, 
and swore all manner of oaths to prove that 
Gerani, a law-abiding citizen, a credit to the 
commonwealth, could not possibly have 
done it. As to the guilty party, O ’Day had 
shaken his head in doubt. He was not 
quick to remember the faces of these for¬ 
eigners. There were many about—some 
new to him. It was impossible to point out 
the guilty man. He appeared really grieved 
that the death of De Angelo should go un¬ 
punished, and left the court-room with the 
avowed intent of bringing the murderer to 


AT EXETER HALL. 


251 


justice. That had been some five years be¬ 
fore, and De Angelo’s murderer was yet un¬ 
punished. But from that time, Gerani was 
a slave to O ’Bay. There was no work 
about the hotel or town that he would not 
do at the saloonist’s bidding. He made 
good wages in the mines and the proprietor 
of “The Miner’s Best” received the biggest 
portion of them. 

It was not for love of Landlord O’Day 
the big Pole served so faithfully, for he 
muttered and cursed under his breath the 
instant he was out of range of the cold, 
steely eyes. O’Day was not in ignorance 
of this for Coslowski had warned him. 
The men had been drinking, Gerani among 
them. 

“Keep your eye on the big Polack,” he 
said to Dennis, yet loud enough for all to 
hear. “If you don’t want to hand in your 
checks soon, don’t let him get behind you on 
a dark night.” 

At that Gerani had scowled malignantly. 
O’Day laughed loud and mirthlessly, while 


252 ELIZABETH HOBART 

he washed glasses and kept his eye on the 
scowling Pole. 

“He’d do it quick enough. Dead men tell 
no tales; but confessions do. And I’ve left 
with Father Brady a nice lot of paper 
which he’s to read when I’m gone. It 
will be hot enough around here to make 
more than one swing for a breeze. I’m 
safe with Gerani—so long as those papers 
are safe with Father Brady.” The big 
Pole moved away from his place at the 
front. As O’Day ceased speaking, he dis¬ 
appeared into the darkness. 

By such methods O’Day had gained his 
influence over the foreigners. He was law¬ 
less. His place was open on the Sabbath 
and until all hours of the night. Young 
boys entered sober and came forth drunk. 
There was no one to call him to account. 
Then from somewhere came Joe Ratowsky. 
And from that time, the troubles of Dennis 
O ’Day began. 

Yet big Joe was apparently innocent. 
He could smatter only a little English. No 


AT EXETER HALL. 


253 


one seemed to know where he came from 
and he never furnished the information 
even when asked; he never seemed to hear 
the question. He was friendly with his 
countrymen, and stood by them whenever 
the need arose. He was often called upon 
to act as interpreter between the bosses and 
the men, but still he was different from 
those about him. He was a Pole, heart and 
soul, and his faith was bound to the home¬ 
land whose ultimate independence was his 
one dream; he had risen a grade higher in 
the moral scale than those whom his work 
made his associates. Joe took baths. Joe 
read a Polish paper; he did not drink ex¬ 
cept one glass of beer at his dinner. None 
of them had ever been able to persuade him 
to go further than that. Whether it were 
a wedding or a wake, Joe was staunch. 
This moderation, with the baths, set him 
apart. 

He did not mine at Bitumen, but worked 
his little patch of ground, interpreted when 
there was need for small consideration, and 


254 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


at last opened a little restaurant where 
lunches after the German style were served. 
His black coffee certainly excelled O’Day’s 
beer, while the wienerwurst and “Schnitz- 
und-Knopf ” put to shame the meals at “The 
Miner’s Best.” 

Joe’s place consisted of a great room with 
a bare floor, furnished with wooden chairs 
and tables. One weekly paper in German 
was always to be found. The German ele¬ 
ment at Bitumen could read their own lan¬ 
guage; and they passed the news on to the 
others. The innovation of the paper 
diminished the popularity of O’Day’s place. 
Joe also introduced music, or what was 
passed for it. Then O’Day offered to buy 
him out at a price more than the place was 
worth. Joe smiled blandly, “Me know Slav 
—me know Polack talk. Me know no 
English like you say. Me no understand. 
Meester Hobart, he tell you vat you says. 
He tell you quick like the tivil.” But Den¬ 
nis 0 ’Day had no desire to speak with Mr. 
Hobart. His efforts with Joe were futile. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


255 


The big Pole had made up his mind not to 
understand. 

The superintendent was liked well 
enough by the saloonist, and consequently 
by the greater portion of the men. Mr. 
Hobart was opposed to liquor, and had not 
hesitated to express himself to that effect. 
But O’Day cared little for that so long, as 
he said, the man knew his place and did not 
interfere. And his place, to O’Day’s way 
of thinking, was to superintend the mines, 
and let the morals of the men alone. “I’ll 
take good care of them,” he was apt to add 
with a crafty look. His intercourse with 
Mr. Hobart began and ended with a bow of 
recognition in the street. So far as the 
liquor business was concerned, O’Day con¬ 
sidered the superintendent harmless, and 
that was as far as he concerned himself 
with anyone. 

Some subtle influence was working 
against O’Day. From whence it came he 
was not able to determine. The time had 
passed, however, when he could break 


256 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


the law with impunity. He felt that keen 
eyes were upon him. He was cunning 
enough to know that his safety now lay in 
his keeping within the limits of the law. 
He made ostentatious show of closing at 
the prescribed hours. All the while he kept 
his eyes and ears open to discover his en¬ 
emy. 

Big Joe Ratowsky was the only probable 
one. He made frequent visits to “The 
Miner’s Rest,” but never drank. He knew 
the ages of all the miners. In this 
respect Joe’s watchfulness was clear to 
O’Day’s mind; but there the evidence 
stopped, and much could be said on the 
other side. So, still at sea, O’Day kept 
himself sober and his eyes and ears open to 
all that was said and done in his place of 
business. Finally, when his confidence was 
fully restored, he returned to his old way 
of doing business, and kept open one Sun¬ 
day. His place was filled with drunken, 
riotous Poles and Slavs. In a spirit of 
recklessness, he sold freely to all. On the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


257 


following morning a summons was served 
to appear before the court to answer to the 
charge of illegal liquor selling. The charge 
was brought by the Pole, big Joe Ratowsky. 
Even then O’Day’s perception was dull. 
It did not come to him that Joe was merely 
the instrument in the hand of someone who 
would not act openly. 

Raffelo Bruno, the little hunchback shoe¬ 
maker, opened his eyes to the truth. He 
was by nature suspicious. He had faith in 
no man. When the summons came to 
O’Day, Raffelo quit his bench and made his 
way to the saloon. His dark, swarthy face, 
with stubby beard, was twisted and con¬ 
torted. He gesticulated continuously, saw¬ 
ing the air with his hands. “Ye-s—Joe 
Ratowsky, he run and tell ze—ze. He 
ees—one—fool. He ze monkee on ze stick. 
Mees—ter Ho—bart, he meek hims 
—jump.” 

The suggestion was enough. Joe was the 
tool of someone, and that someone was 
Superintendent Hobart; such was the idea 


258 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


the Italian meant to convey. O ’Day in for¬ 
cible terms cursed himself that he had not 
seen this before. It was evident enough 
now. Mr. Hobart, as superintendent, dare 
not antagonize the drink-indulging miners 
with open warfare against the saloon. Joe 
was his tool, carrying out his plans. Joe 
Ratowsky with his smattering of English 
did not know enough to make himself a 
formidable enemy. Some keen mind with 
a knowledge of the liquor law was the power 
back of the Pole. The coffee-house and 
reading-room which Joe had opened were 
mere subterfuges to draw the men away 
from the saloon. The man could not and 
did not make enough to keep himself and 
family in the poor way they lived. 

It was clear enough to O ’Day now, 
though he ridiculed Bruno for suggesting 
that Mr. Hobart interested himself in such 
matters. 

The summons was served in October. 
O’Day appeared before the November court. 
They might have brought half a dozen dif- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


259 


ferent counts against him, but they did not. 
The prosecuting attorney, with great confi¬ 
dence in his own judgment, had drawn up 
the papers specifically charging Dennis 
O’Day with selling to minors. He had ev¬ 
idence sufficient on that one count to have 
his license revoked. 

The trial passed off quickly. Four boys, 
not over sixteen, testified that Dennis O’Day 
himself had sold liquor to them, not once 
but many times. It was proof positive 
without Joe Ratowsky giving his testimony. 

O ’Day himself sat hunched up in the pris¬ 
oners ’ dock, glinting his keen eyes about 
from witness to juror. When the witnesses 
had testified against him, his attorney 
brought forth, in turn, the father of each 
boy, who declared that he had personally 
given the saloonist permission to sell liquor 
to his son. By this the Minor Liquor Law 
was, in effect, circumvented. That each 
father was the richer by some of O’Day’s 
money was generally supposed. But that 
was not the issue at hand. The case was 


260 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


dismissed. O’Day went back to Bitumen 
wiser in that be knew whom to fear, and 
with the privilege of freely selling to the 
young boys who had testified against him. 

Though to all appearances the matter 
ended here, the fight had just begun. 

It would have been impossible for any¬ 
one, except O’Day, to tell just how the 
trouble began. But before a month had 
passed, "there arose a feeling of dissatisfac¬ 
tion among the miners. It could be felt 
rather than expressed. Where once every 
Slav and Pole smiled at the mention of the 
boss’s name, now there was only silence, a 
silence ominous to those who knew the signs. 
Joe Batowsky understood and went at mid¬ 
night to ask Mr. Hobart to go away some¬ 
where for a time, until the discontent 
passed. But Mr. Hobart was not one to 
leave his work because a man of Dennis 
O’Day’s stamp saw fit to disapprove of him. 
If there was trouble brewing, there was all 
the more reason for him to stand at his post. 
He laughed at Batowsky’s fears, and en- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


261 


couraged him to think that half the discon¬ 
tent among the men was of his own imagi¬ 
nation. 

A series of accidents, or what passed as 
such, began immediately after Dennis 
0 ’Day was acquitted. 

The cable, which drew the coal cars up 
the incline, broke, letting them fall back at 
break-neck speed against the engine-house. 
Fortunately it occurred at a time when the 
men were not riding up the incline, so no 
lives were lost. This accident was the sub¬ 
ject of discussion that night at “The Min¬ 
er’s Best.” O’Day was over-solicitous 
about the welfare of the men. He criticised 
corporations which risked the lives of the 
workmen for the sake of saving. “Anyone 
could see the cable was weak in spots,” he 
said. “It wasn’t a week ago that I walked 
up the incline—wouldn’t trust myself to 
such a rotten chain. A new cable costs, of 
course, and the company used the old one 
till it fell to pieces. They hain’t risking 
their lives. What does it matter to them 


262 ELIZABETH HOBART 

if a few Slavs and Polacks hand in their 
checks ? Huns and Dagos are thick as 
blackberries in June, and about as valu¬ 
able.” 

At his words the men about the tables 
scowled. It mattered to them if a few lives 
were lost, providing their own were am ong 
them. 

“I wish I had the corporations by the 
throat,”, added O’Day vehemently, all the 
while watching the effect of his words upon 
his hearers. He could read these people 
like an open book, and he was keen enough 
to know when it was wise to stop talking 
and when continue. “I’d choke them into 
taking care of the men’s lives. You’re all 
just so many cattle to them. A Hun isn’t 
so much to them as a cow, and they would 
see you all in perdition rather than lose a 
good mule.” 

The faces about him were scowling and 
malignant. Each man was ready to believe 
all evil against that great and incompre¬ 
hensible body known as a corporation. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


263 


They had heard the war-cry between capi¬ 
tal and labor dinned into their ears since 
the day they set foot upon American soil. 
It meant nothing to them that their teach¬ 
ers were always men like O ’Day, who, while 
lining their own pockets with the laborers’ 
earnings, cry out against the men who are 
getting more, though lawfully. It never 
came to their untrained minds that O’Day 
proved nothing. He said so, that was 
enough. O’Day listened to the muttered 
growls of dissatisfaction. 

“But, I suppose,” he continued hypocrit¬ 
ically, “that we shouldn’t blame the men 
who have put their money in the mines. 
They are only wanting a fair interest on 
their investment. That’s only right. No 
doubt they send money enough right into 
Bitumen to have things kept up first-class, 
better houses for the miners, and cables that 
don’t break. I’m thinking there hain’t one 
of those big ones in the city who knows how 
poor you men live, how little you get, and 
how you risk your lives every day you work. 


264 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


How should they know? They spend 
money enough to have things fine.” Then 
he added, “They hain’t to blame if the 
men they’ve put in charge hain’t hon¬ 
est.” 

That was enough for one night. O’Day, 
still discreet and tactful, dropped the sub¬ 
ject. Hot so with the men. They rolled 
the idea about until it grew into immense 
proportions. A week passed, and yet they 
talked. If there had been one among them 
fitted to lead, there would have been open 
trouble. There was no one. Bruno had 
daring and sagacity enough, but he was an 
Italian—a Dago, in common parlance, and 
the Slavs and Poles hated the Dagos worse 
than they hated the smallpox. 

Sometime later a small stationary engine 
blew up; and Colowski was hit on the head 
by a piece of flying iron. Ellis, the engi¬ 
neer, insisted that he was not careless. He 
had kept his steam-register down to one 
hundred and fifty pounds when the limit 
was three hundred. Superintendent Ho- 


AT EXETER HALL. 265 

bart was about to discharge him when Joe 
Ratowsky appeared. 

"It’s the tivil’s own work, b’gosh, Mees- 
ter Hobart. Gerani, he comes and he fools 
with the little boiler-clock. Me come like 
the tivil, b’gosh, or me could have stopped it 
quick.” He had picked up the steam-regis¬ 
ter and was holding it in his hand. It was 
what he called the boiler-clock. It had been 
hurled a great distance but yet remained 
whole. 

Mr. Hobart took it from Joe’s hand to 
examine it. He had given little credence 
to Ratowsky’s words. He whistled softly 
to himself as he examined the register. He 
began to believe the Pole right. Affairs 
at Bitumen were assuming a serious as¬ 
pect. 

O’Hay’s acquittal had taught him one les¬ 
son—to be prepared for any emergency. 
For that reason, he handed the register to 
Ellis. “Look closely at that,” he said. 
“There’s evidence enough there to free you 
from blame. But I wish you and Joe to see 




266 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


this for yourselves and not take my word 
for it.” 

Ellis, too, whistled when he examined the 
register. Little wonder that he had not 
been able to put on a full head of steam. A 
strong but almost invisible steel rod had 
been driven in the face of the register at 
such a point that the hand moving under the 
pressure of steam would stop at the one- 
hundred-and-fifty-pound mark. 

“It couldn’t have been driven there by 
the explosion?” asked Ellis. 

“Impossible. *We haven’t a steel brad 
like that about the place, and never have 
had. Joe saw Gerani prowling about be¬ 
fore you came.” 

“And I saw him leave, Mr. Hobart. I 
went up to Bruno’s shack to have my shoes 
fixed, and I came down over the hill instead 
of the usual way by the road. Gerani was 
just going up as I came down.” 

Mr. Hobart made no further comment. 
But from that time Gerani was watched 
closely. Joe Ratowsky, while seemingly do- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


267 


ing nothing but attend his little lunch- 
counter, shadowed the man. He knew when 
Gerani came and went. There was proof 
enough that he had been interfering with 
the engine. But it was not he alone whom 
Mr. Hobart wished to reach. It was the 
man back of the act who had sent the Pole 
to do the work. 

The superintendent thought at first of dis¬ 
missing Gerani. But this might bring on 
more serious complications. His fellow- 
workmen might object—the Huns and 
Poles, at least. The Italians were not in the 
mines but were employed about the dumps, 
and on the road which wound about the 
mountain. It was Joe again who thought 
of a means of subduing Gerani. He had 
heard enough of O’Bay’s covert suggestion 
that he could tell much that Gerani dreaded. 
Joe undertook the same stratagem. One 
stormy night he met Gerani on his way 
home. Catching him by his sleeve, he de¬ 
tained him long enough to say in his native 
tongue, “I’ve a word to say to you in secret, 


268 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


brother. O’Day is not the only one that 
knows about the Dago. The superintend¬ 
ent, he knows, too; but he keeps quiet be¬ 
cause you are a good miner when you are 
not drunk, brother. So a word of warning. 
Keep friends with Mr. Hobart, and what¬ 
ever happens, don’t let it come to his ears 
that Gerani went up at daylight to work at 
the engine. Just a word of warning, 
brother, all given in good faith, and for the 
sake of the land from which we came.” 

That was all. Joe Eatowsky strode on 
through the darkness without giving the 
other time to respond. In his own tongue, 
his speech was impressive. He saw now, 
from the frightened expression of Gerani’s 
face, that his words had struck home. 

The next morning, the big Pole was not at 
the mines, nor did he come to draw the pay 
due him. Joe Eatowsky chuckled to him¬ 
self when several days passed. “ Gerani— 
oh—he all right. We no fear him. Me 
scare him like the tivil, b’gosh.” 

Mr. Hobart rested easy again with Gerani 


AT EXETER HALL. 269 

at a distance and afraid of Mm. But men 
of 0’Day’s stamp can readily find tools to 
tlieir need. 

There was a week or more of quiet, then 
the engine and one car, wliich went down the 
mountain each morning to bring back the 
mail, was derailed at the second switchback 
and crashed into a forest of big oaks. The 
car was empty, and the train, being on the 
second switch, was moving backward. The 
rear end of the coach was crushed but the 
engine and engineer escaped unhurt. 

“Gerani,” said Mr. Hobart when he 
heard the news, but Batowsky shook his 
head in negation. “You no see Mm no 
more. He be bad man at Bitumen no more, 
b’gosh.” Then Joe laughed heartily and 
slapped his broad limbs with his hand. He 
never lost his first appreciation of the man¬ 
ner in which he had settled Gerani’s inter¬ 
ference. There had been a gang of a dozen 
Italians somewhere along the road, but they 
had neither seen nor heard anyone. 

For several weeks communication be- 


270 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


tween Bitumen and the rest of the world 
was cut off. It was then that Joe Batowsky 
walked to the foot of the hill to telegraph 
Elizabeth to remain at Exeter. And the 
day following he called upon her, with a 
letter, putting the best construction he could 
upon the road being disabled. 

There was a little mule-driver in the mines 
who bore the euphonious name of Ketcho- 
munoski. He ate much wienerwurst and 
drank beer freely, and on holidays de¬ 
voured, at one sitting, a half-dozen loaves of 
bread, the centers of which had been previ¬ 
ously dug out and filled with melted lard. 
He visited “The Miners’ Best” and reeled 
home to his shack at a late hour. All these 
are mere preliminary details to the state¬ 
ment that his nerves were growing irritable, 
and his temper uncertain. He beat one 
mule until it was forced to return disabled 
to the barn, and a few days later mistreated 
a second until it was worthless and the boss 
in a humane spirit had the animal shot. 

For such cases a precedent had long been 


AT EXETER HALL. 


271 


established. The boy deserved to be dis¬ 
charged at once, and discharged he was. 
Had conditions been normal, discharging a 
mule-driver would have been of so little mo¬ 
ment it would have passed without comment. 
But 0’Day’s quiet work had not been with¬ 
out its effect. 

The same evening, a delegation of miners 
waited upon Mr. Hobart. Ketchomunoski 
was to be put back or the rest of them would 
go out. Mr. Hobart listened to their terms. 
He considered the question before replying. 
Again he felt certain that another brain had 
put the plan in operation. After delibera¬ 
tion, he spoke to them plainly. Such a 
movement on their part was ill-advised. 
First, the largest orders for the year had 
already been filled, and enough coal was at 
the dumps and in cars at the foot of the 
mountain to fill the orders which came in 
month by month. So far as The Kettle 
Creek Mining Company and its patrons 
were concerned, the mines could shut down 
until spring; as to the miners, they knew 


272 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


that they had neither money nor food to 
supply them for a month. 

He tried to reason with them; but the 
Hungarians and Polack miners know no 
reason. Mr. Hobart’s present method of 
talking with them, to their way of thinking, 
betokened not sound common sense and 
judgment, but fear. 

They blustered and threatened and defied. 
At this, Mr. Hobart arose, declaring that 
they might take what course they would, he 
could not return Ketchomunoski to work. 
The delegation, expressing their anger in 
strong words, departed. Mr. Hobart imme¬ 
diately sent word to Eatowsky, Ellis and 
half a dozen other men whom he knew 
would stand by him. Together they talked 
over the situation, cleaned their fire-arms, 
and then sent Eatowsky, by moonlight, 
down the mountain to purchase and bring 
back a supply of ammunition. 

By the following evening the strike at Bi¬ 
tumen was on. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE PROUD, HUMBLED. 

After the midwinter holidays, the ques¬ 
tion of conducting examinations came up. 
Dr. Kitchell had decided that, in view of 
Miss Hobart’s refusing to take the examina¬ 
tion, she could not enter his classes again 
until she had explained matters to Dr. Mor¬ 
gan and secured permission from her. Eliz¬ 
abeth dreaded talking matters over with Dr. 
Morgan no more than with her father. 
Upon her return to Exeter, she immediately 
visited the president’s office, and explained 
why she had refused to take the examina¬ 
tion. Dr. Morgan was in a lenient frame 
of mind. She not only forgave Elizabeth 
her hasty act, but took time to explain to 
her that this was a custom old as examina¬ 
tions themselves, and a necessity. The ex- 
273 


274 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


planation satisfied Elizabeth’s wounded 
feelings but did not alter her view of the 
method. She told Dr. Morgan of the con¬ 
ference the girls had held in her room the 
night before the holidays and of the plan 
they had formed which, with the permission 
of the principal, they meant to carry out. 

Dr. Morgan listened to the plan as Eliz¬ 
abeth gave it in detail, then replied: “This 
much can be said of the plan, Miss Hobart. 
If it proves a success, it will be a benefit to 
the students and the school. If it fails, we 
are just where we were before—nothing 
gained or lost. You may try it. But just 
a word of advice. Select as your leaders 
girls in whom the others have confidence; 
those who may be trusted to do right, how¬ 
ever unpleasant it may be. Young girls 
may laugh at and seemingly admire a smart 
bravado of manner and sly deceit, but when 
it comes to being led, they want none of 
these. A dozen trustworthy agents will be 
worth more than a hundred who are not.” 

Such advice Miss Cresswell had given 


AT EXETER HALL. 


275 


Elizabeth the evening of the meeting. She 
had already acted upon it according to her 
best lights, though it was no easy matter to 
decide whom to choose. She and her 
friends worked slowly. They wished the 
reformation to be the outcome of deliberate 
thought, rather than of impetuous emotion. 

Nora O’Day was one of its staunch sup¬ 
porters. At every opportunity she (advo¬ 
cated the acceptance of the new school creed 
which Elizabeth and Miss Cresswell had 
drawn up. Considering the part which she 
had played in the examinations the previous 
spring, her present position was a difficult 
one. She knew that her strenuous efforts 
were looked upon by some with suspicion. 
But she continued. She might have become 
discouraged had she not known that Miss 
Cresswell and Elizabeth both understood. 

Since that night before the holidays when 
she had told Elizabeth the cause of her so¬ 
cial ostracism, no mention had been made of 
the subject. There had been no change in 
Elizabeth’s manner toward her. Nora be- 


270 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


gan to believe that Elizabeth cared enough 
for her to forgive. Her greatest proof of 
love for Elizabeth was giving her the essays 
and theses which had been her mother’s. 
The memory of this mother was the only bit 
of real sentiment that had ever come into 
the girl’s life. She was fond of her father 
for he had always been kind to her. As a 
child, she had idolized him. But as she 
grew old enough to learn what character 
meant, the childish faith died. She could 
not put the feeling into words. She was 
scarcely conscious that her attitude toward 
him had changed. But at Exeter she had 
learned to blush at the way in which his 
wealth had been gained. She spoke of him, 
but never of his business. She looked upon 
the simple gifts and loving letters which 
Elizabeth received from home with a feeling 
very much like envy. 

Before the Easter holidays, Mrs. Hobart 
sent Elizabeth a simple school suit of her 
own making. Joe Ratowsky carried it 
down to Exeter. So many accidents had 


AT EXETER HALL. 


277 


occurred on the dinky-road that it had been 
abandoned until spring. The mines were 
closed; and the operators were making no 
effort to open them. 

Nora was in the room when Elizabeth 
spread out her new frock on the bed. 

“Look at the button-holes!” Elizabeth ex¬ 
claimed. “Mother always did make beauti¬ 
ful button-holes. And here,” seizing a 
smaller bundle and unwrapping it, “if she 
hasn’t embroidered me two lay-over collars 
to go with it! Mother always seems to 
know what I want.” 

She was already before the mirror laying 
the bits of embroidered linen in place to 
see if they fitted. 

Her companion stood by, looking on. She 
had made no comment. Her expression was 
not cheerful. Turning suddenly about, 
Elizabeth saw the dubious look. 

“You don’t like it?” she cried. Then, ‘ 6 1 
suppose it does look very cheap beside 
yours, but—” There was no complaint in 
her tone. 


278 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“Cheap? I wasn’t thinking of that. I 
was only wishing I had one made as that 
was made, by someone who took the trouble 
because they cared for me.” Her voice was 
tearful. In a moment she might have been 
crying, but she hurried to her own room. 
Her new spring dress had come the day be¬ 
fore. She had spread it out on the couch to 
show Elizabeth, and it still lay there. She 
took it up in her hands, inspecting with 
care every hook and bit of trimming. It 
was beautifully made and of handsome ma¬ 
terial. But Nora O’Day was not satisfied. 
She missed more and more the mother she 
had never known. She coveted the plain, 
simple gown which loving hands had made 
for her friend. 

Elizabeth wasted no time in putting her 
frock into use. Dressing immediately, she 
went over to Landis’ room to talk over the 
plan of examinations. Landis had been 
one of the last interviewed. She was not 
what might be called a “charter member.” 
Therefore, it was not surprising that she 


AT EXETER HALL. 


279 


had not shown a great amount of enthusi¬ 
asm w T hen the matter was broached to her. 
Playing second fiddle did not suit her ambi¬ 
tious temperament. She had promised to 
consider the matter. 

That promise had been given a week pre¬ 
viously. Elizabeth, who decided most ques¬ 
tions upon the spur of the moment, thought 
a week was sufficient. Upon entering Miss 
Stoner’s room, she put the question at once. 

‘‘Well, Landis, what are you going to do 
about joining us?” 

Landis looked serious. She sat silent for 
a few minutes, her gaze fixed upon a design 
in the rug, as though she wished to consider 
well before replying. At last she spoke and 
her voice expressed self-confidence and au¬ 
thority. 

“You know me well enough, Elizabeth, to 
know that I’m always on the side of what is 
right. I have thought the matter over and 
have decided that it is worthy of success. I 
do hope it will succeed. That, of course, de¬ 
pends upon those who are backing it. Yet 


280 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


I can not put my name to it. Now,” with 
a serious and most impressive air such as 
Landis only could assume, “do not misun¬ 
derstand me. It is not that I do not ap¬ 
prove of your plan, think it needed and 
all that, but there is a personal reason 
why I feel that I cannot join the move¬ 
ment.” 

“Why,—because you feel that you can 
not live up to the requirements?” was the 
brusque question. 

“Hardly. I fancy I do whatever I make 
up my mind to do. I’m sure living up to 
the requirements would be doing just as I 
have always done.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Again Landis looked serious. Her ex¬ 
pression was that of one who could tell much 
if they would. Her habit of seeming to 
weigh her words gave them undue value. 
Her hearers expected her to express lofty 
sentiments. 

“I hesitated about speaking of the mat¬ 
ter to anyone. It is so easy to be misunder- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


281 


stood. I would not have anyone think me 
a cad; but there are some among your sign¬ 
ers whom I object to. I wouldn’t care to 
have my name appear there with that of 
another girl whom I have in mind.” 

To Elizabeth who blurted out everything, 
and who was frank and out-spoken, there 
was nothing more distasteful than insinua¬ 
tions. 

“Whom do you mean, Landis?” 

“It is not necessary to say,” was the re¬ 
sponse. “I mentioned the fact only to let 
you understand that it was not the policy 
to which I objected. As I said before, I am 
on the side of right. I wish my influence 
always to be for good.” 

“But it is necessary to tell. The girls 
who signed that first petition to Dr. Morgan 
are friends of mine. They are girls who 
stand well in school, and they’re popular, 
every one of them. You cannot make such 
a statement and think that I’m going to let 
it pass. I’m not. You’ve insinuated some¬ 
thing against either me or my friends, and 


282 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


you must come straight out and say what 
it is.” 

Min, who had been sitting by the window 
mending a pair of old gloves for Landis, 
gave a nervous giggle. Any little unpleas¬ 
antness was painful to her. She stopped 
sewing to listen to the conversation between 
the girls. Landis was not nonplussed, 
whatever the circumstances. She was not 
offended now by Elizabeth’s words, but was 
surprised. She appeared shocked that Eliz¬ 
abeth should be crude enough to show vehe¬ 
mence. 

“What a little spitfire you are, Elizabeth! 
When you’re a few years older you’ll learn 
not to express yourself so strongly. As to 
your knowing who the girl is to whom I ob¬ 
ject, there is no reason for my keeping si¬ 
lent. I have not mentioned her name be¬ 
cause I was considering her feelings and re¬ 
putation. But since you insist, I’ll tell you. 
I must emphatically object to having my 
name published over Exeter Hall with Nora 
0’Day’s.” 


AT EXETER HALL. 


283 


“Why?” Elizabeth asked calmly enough 
now, yet she was exceedingly annoyed. 

“Why ? What a question to ask! Surely 
you know how dishonorably she acted last 
spring! Someone must have told you. You 
and Mary Wilson are such friends.” 

“Yes; someone told me, but it wasn’t 
Mary Wilson. She doesn’t do that sort 
of thing. Nora O’Day told me. Are 
you afraid to join the same set with 
her?” 

“Not afraid in one sense of the word. To 
be sure, she would not influence me an iota. 
I might mingle with her and her kind and 
be none the worse for it. Do not think I 
am considering myself in the matter. I 
have in mind the younger set of girls who 
are so easily influenced. They know the 
story of Miss O’Day’s methods in examina¬ 
tion. What would they think of seeing my 
name in connection with hers ?—that I 
would countenance anything that was dis¬ 
honorable! If not that, at least, like me, 
they might be suspicious of a reform that 


284 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


had among its leaders a girl who had been 
publicly reprimanded for cheating.” 

During the talk, Elizabeth had been lean¬ 
ing backward against the study-table, her 
hands behind her, supporting her weight. 

She paused before replying to Landis. 
Then she asked: “Do you believe in treat¬ 
ing every one who has done wrong as you 
intend treating Nora'?” 

“Surely. To treat them otherwise would 
be an open acknowledgment that we are 
willing to overlook deceit and fraud. No 
one can afford to do that. You must re¬ 
member the stand Dr. Morgan takes on such 
matters. You have heard her lecture often 
enough to know that she does not counte¬ 
nance treating sin and crime lightly. Why, 
in her last chapel-talk she said that while 
some amusements might be legitimate and 
proper for us, we must refrain from them 
because of our influencing others who might 
be harmed. Fm sure I could find no better 
person to follow than Dr. Morgan.” 

“I do not think her words applied to this 


AT EXETER HALL. 


285 


instance. At least I would not have taken 
it so. Nora did cheat last spring; hut per¬ 
haps she is sorry for it. You do not know 
but that she looks upon it now with more 
scorn than you do.” 

“I hope so. I hope Exeter has had some 
influence upon her.” 

“Don’t you think, Landis, the proper 
thing to do, when we know she is ashamed 
of what she did last spring, is to help her 
all we can? It seems so unforgiving to be 
remembering always the little mean ac¬ 
tions. I think she has suffered enough as 
it is. I don’t see what is to be gained by 
slighting her now.” 

4 ‘Perhaps you don’t; but this is your first 
year at Exeter and you have lots more to 
learn. When you have been here two years 
more, perhaps your ethical standard will be 
higher.” 

“ Until I am capable of copying other 
people’s essays and passing them off for 
my own.” Elizabeth’s lips had grown white 
as Landis spoke. Never before in all her 


286 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


life had she been as angry as now. It was 
not alone Landis’ words which hurt her, but 
the girl’s manner and tone, which were most 
insulting. 

For an instant Landis’ face grew crimson. 
Elizabeth’s remark had struck home. Her 
embarrassment lasted only for a moment. 
She was her cool, confident self again. 

“I hope you’ll never be capable of that,” 
was the rejoinder, spoken lightly as she 
moved to her desk and took up a pencil pre¬ 
paratory to writing. “Exeter is scarcely a 
place where one learns such methods. One 
must have brought the disposition for such 
things with her.” 

Elizabeth was not deceived by the light 
tone of the remark. Having entered into 
the discussion, she did not intend to retreat 
with lowered flag. However, it was scarcely 
fair to Landis to put her at a disadvantage 
in Min Kean’s presence. While Landis was 
speaking, the situation presented itself 
clearly to Elizabeth’s mind. She turned to 
Miss Kean. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


287 


“Min, would you care to go over to call on 
my roommate for a few minutes? You’ll 
find some home-made candy which mother 
sent with Joe Ratowsky. I wish to speak 
with Landis, and it’s really too personal for 
even you to hear.” 

“Why, certainly! I’ll take the gloves 
along and finish my mending there. But 
don’t quarrel while I’m gone.” 

“Scarcely,” was the reply from Landis. 
“I never have quarreled with anyone and I 
have no desire to begin now.” She was 
much taller than before. She was really 
quite an impressive person when she was on 
her dignity. 

“Well?” she asked, turning to Elizabeth 
as the door closed after Min. Her manner 
and facial expression added, “If you have 
anything to say, you little insignificant 
member of the Middlers, say it. Such an 
august personage as myself has no time to 
waste in conversation with a little girl.” 

Elizabeth did not falter. “I did not wish 
Min to hear what I have to say. She looks 


288 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


up to you as the literary light at Exeter, and 
I see no reason to undeceive her. I’ve 
known these little facts I’m about to men¬ 
tion since last holidays; but I’ve told no one. 
I would never have brought up the subject 
for discussion, even with you, if you had not 
been so bitter against Nora. It seems so 
perfectly ridiculous for you to criticise her 
for cheating once in examination when 
you’ve kept up the same system for 
months.” 

“I don’t know what you mean!” 

“You will soon if you do not now. As I 
have already said, I would have kept this to 
myself had you not been insulting to me ever 
since I came in this morning. I won’t be 
patronized by anyone that I have no confi¬ 
dence in. Every one at Exeter praises your 
fine essays. I used to, but I don’t any 
more.” 

“What is the matter with you this morn¬ 
ing, Elizabeth? I insulting to you! The 
idea was farthest from my thoughts. I’m 
nervous. I suppose that accounts for my 


AT EXETER HALL. 


289 


speaking so you misunderstood me. I’m 
really working very hard. I’m anxious to 
make a creditable passing mark, and then 
I have Min to coach. You know she does 
not grasp lessons so quickly as you and some 
of the brighter ones.” 

But the open flattery did not lead Eliza¬ 
beth away from the subject. She had grown 
years wiser in the six months spent at Ex¬ 
eter. Her knowledge had cost her much of 
her girlish confidence. 

“I—” she began. 

Landis, determined to ignore unpleasant 
subjects, interrupted with, “Have you ever 
been out to the Adams’ farm? I suppose 
you haven’t, since this is your first spring 
at Exeter. There’s a big woods near the 
house. It is filled with arbutus. I sup¬ 
pose it is beginning to leaf now. Min 
and I go out every spring to spend a day 
and night. We come home laden with ar¬ 
butus. We’re going again a week from this 
coming Saturday. I wish you and Mary 
Wilson would go along. We get a livery 


290 ELIZABETH HOBART 

rig and drive out. Can’t you go with us?” 

“No, I—” 

“It shall not cost you a cent. Min and I 
will pay the livery bill.” 

“Oh, I think I could manage to pay my 
share,” dryly. “It was not that which 
made me refuse to accept. I feel in this as 
you do about Nora O’Day. I wish to tell 
you about what I learned last holidays.” 
She talked hurriedly, allowing Landis no 
opportunity to interrupt. “Nora O’Day by 
chance mentioned that you came to see her 
and read some of her mother’s theses. 
Nora did not suspect you. She thought you 
were inclined to be literary, and felt pleased 
that you approved of the work her mother 
did years ago. That is all she thought 
about it. I did more thinking while Nora 
was telling me. I thought that Landis 
Stoner must be a little mite deceitful or she 
would not be critical of Nora when others 
were present and yet slip in to see her dur¬ 
ing study-hours. It seemed — well — it 
seemed downright deceitful to me. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


291 


"I heard you deliver an oration in the 
chapel. You know that you speak well, and 
so you are in every public affair. At least, 
you have been ever since I’ve been at Ex¬ 
eter. Your orations have been fine. I 
thought you were wonderfully bright until 
the Christinas holidays. When I was leav¬ 
ing, Nora brought me some of her mother’s 
essays to read. I read them while I was at 
Windburne.” 

She paused and looked straight at Landis. 
Landis had no words to reply. She stood, 
dignified and erect by the study-table, toy¬ 
ing with a silver paper-knife. The silence 
lasted for some minutes. Then feeling that 
Elizabeth was waiting for some word she 
gave a non-committal, “Well?” 

“But it isn’t ‘well.’ It is anything but 
‘well’. It’s what I call decidedly bad. The 
instant I read those essays, I discovered 
that your work was cribbed. You had 
read—” 

“What a fuss you make about nothing at 
all, Elizabeth! To hear you talk, one might 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


think that I was guilty of wholesale rob¬ 
bery, or murder, or some, other horrible 
crime. You young girls who are new to 
school-life and have had no experience out¬ 
side your own little town do not understand 
these matters. You are, if I may say it, a 
little narrow in your views. You know 
only one way, and have the notion that there 
can be no other. You say I read those es¬ 
says. Why, of course I did. They were 
good, too, and I received a great deal of 
help from them. Every one who writes 
even a little bit makes an effort to read all 
the good things along the same lines. That 
is the only way one can develop talent. I 
got some excellent ideas from Mrs. O’Day’s 
essays. Is there anything criminal in 
that? If there is, then we must lock up 
our histories and reference books when 
we have any article to prepare for class- 
work.” 

“If it were receiving ideas merely, I 
should scarcely mention the matter to you; 
or even had you taken the ideas wholesale 


AT EXETER HALL. 293 

and expressed them in your own words, I 
should have said nothing at all. But you 
did not do that. Landis, you know you did 
not, and you cannot convince me by a few 
fine words that you did. The oration you 
delivered in chapel, the last rhetorical be¬ 
fore the holidays, is almost word for word 
like the original. You gave me your copy 
to write up for our society paper. I have 
it, and also the original. If you are still 
doubtful of my statement, I’ll go with you 
to Dr. Morgan and give them to her to 
read.” 

“Oh, I believe you,” was the reply given 
in an indifferent manner. “That was the 
one ‘Character Sketches in Shakespeare.’ 
I had forgotten about that. We were 
rushed with work. I remember now. I 
had no time to write an oration suitable for 
a public affair. I remember I did commit 
one of those old ones. But I do not think I 
claimed it was original. You people just 
took that for granted. If you had taken 
the trouble to ask me, I would have told you. 


294 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


I do not know that it is my fault that you 
were deceived.” 

“Well, Landis,” said Elizabeth slowly, 
“you are surely an adept in slipping out of 
trouble. Now, Nora O’Day did wrong and 
made no attempt to deny it. She bore her 
punishment without a complaint. Your 
words do not deceive me one iota. They 
would have done so six months ago. But 
that time’s gone. It really does me good to 
speak so plainly to you now. I have felt 
deceitful all along in knowing about those 
papers, and then listening quietly while you 
criticized every one else at Exeter—girls 
who would not be guilty of doing what you 
have done. We will not discuss the subject 
further, but do not think that you are de¬ 
ceiving me. You are not. You copied, not 
one, but most of your orations and theses. 
But do not worry. Continue to copy if you 
wish. It is none of my affairs, and I shall 
tell no one. Now I’m through talking with 
you, and I feel a great deal better for tell¬ 
ing you what I know.” Turning, she 


AT EXETER HALL. 


295 


walked toward the door. “I’m going back 
to my room to get to work now. I’ll tell 
Min that she can come back if she wishes 
to.” 

“But, Elizabeth, you came to talk about 
the method of examinations,” said Landis 
sweetly. She did not lift her eyes to meet 
the direct glance of her caller. She still 
continued to play with the paper-knife, run¬ 
ning it up and down the felt of the table, 
making depressions in geometrical designs. 
“Since you feel as you do about Nora 
O’Day, that she is sorry and all that, and 
since she is a friend of yours, I’ll withdraw 
my objections to her. Of course, I feel as 
you do. It is not right to judge anyone. 
I’ll not remember her past deeds against 
her. Bring along your paper when you go 
into class, and I’ll put down my name, and 
I’ll promise for Min, too.” 

Elizabeth wheeled suddenly about. “ I do 
not wish you to sign it. We shall manage 
the affair very well without you.” 

‘ ‘ Just as you please. ’ ’ Here Landis ’ self- 


296 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


confidence forsook her. She could not be¬ 
lieve it possible that any girl would be gen¬ 
erous enough to keep to herself such a mat¬ 
ter as that of the essay-copying. Should 
Elizabeth tell but one or two, the affair 
would soon become public property. Her 
name would be mentioned with scorn 
throughout Exeter. Already she saw her¬ 
self ostracized as she had helped to ostracize 
Nora O’Day. But if such a condition 
would result from her dishonesty, she would 
leave The Hall at once. She was much too 
proud, too ambitious, to allow anyone to ig¬ 
nore her. She stepped toward Elizabeth, 
holding out her hands appealingly. “Eliz¬ 
abeth Hobart, don’t, I beg of you, let any¬ 
one else know of this. Promise me you will 
tell no one and I’ll do whatever you ask 
me to.” 

“All I ask of you is to let my friends go 
free of your criticism. You lead a certain 
set. Whatever you do, they will also do. I 
wish you to make them drop that old, worn- 
out subject of Nora O’Day’s cheating.” 


7 



“We shall manage the affair very well without you.” 


















. 

























































































































































# 






AT EXETER HALL. 


297 


“I will—I promise you that.” 

“You and Min need not sign our petition 
to Dr. Morgan or the pledge we send in. 
They are to he ready before to-morrow— 
but you are to give me your promise to live 
up to the requirements.” 

“I’ll do that. I have never taken advan¬ 
tage in examinations. They have always 
been easy enough without that.” 

Elizabeth knew this to be quite true. 
Landis was one of the strongest members of 
the Senior class and she worked hard. 

“Then we understand each other,” said 
Elizabeth. “From this time on, we’ll be 
just as before. No one need know we have 
had this talk.” She passed into the hall at 
these words, leaving Landis alone to reflect 
upon their conversation. 












CHAPTER XII. 


THE SENIORS OUTWITTED. 

When the Seniors and the Middlers, at 
the close of the spring semester, entered 
the class-room to take their examination in 
trigonometry, they found Dr. Kitchell the 
only member of the faculty present. He 
remained long enough to pass the small, 
printed slips of questions, and to explain 
the manner in which he wished the work 
done. A smile of relief passed over the 
class as he took his departure. Soon pen¬ 
cils and rulers were busy. The sound of 
their moving was all that was heard in the 
class-room. No word was spoken. The 
work continued for over an hour. Then 
one member, having finished, arose and, 
placing her papers on the table which stood 
near the front, quitted the room. One by 
299 


300 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


one, as they completed the examination, the 
others followed her example. 

Elizabeth was among the last to leave. 
Her face was beaming with satisfaction at 
the spirit in which her plan had been car¬ 
ried out. In the main hall she met Dr. 
Kitchell. 

“The girls are all through,” she ex¬ 
claimed, a thrill of pleasureable excitement 
showing in her voice. “There was not a 
word spoken, nor communication of any 
sort.” 

“It is truly the only way to conduct an 
examination,” he answered, turning to walk 
with her down the hall to the dormitory. 
“The credit should be given to you, Miss 
Hobart. This police-duty, which so in¬ 
sulted you last fall, was not pleasant work 
for a teacher; but custom makes slaves of us 
all. Nothing will please us better than 
knowing that Exeter can have honest ex¬ 
aminations without faculty supervision. 
We have wished for just such conditions as 
this, but they seemed rather to be dreamed 


AT EXETER HALL. 


301 


of than realized. An instructor can do lit¬ 
tle in such matters. The desire must come 
from the students. We give you, Miss Ho¬ 
bart, the credit of this change .’ 9 

“I do not know that I should have it,” 
was the reply. 4 6 It is not that I was more 
sensitive or had higher ideals than the other 
girls. It was that they were accustomed to 
such supervision since the days when they 
entered school, while it was all new to me. 
And being new, it impressed me greatly. 
You see,” she added, looking up at Dr. 
Kitchell as though she did not wish him to 
misinterpret her leaving his class-room that 
day of the first examination, “outside of 
class, you would not have thought of such a 
thing as questioning our word or our hon¬ 
esty, yet by your way of conducting an ex¬ 
amination, you did both.” 

“That is true in part. I questioned the 
honor of some. Class honor, I should say. 
But there is yet another side to that. Stu¬ 
dents who would scorn to be other than 
strictly fair and upright outside of class 


302 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


have stooped to all manner of subterfuge to 
pass an examination. All sense of moral 
responsibility evaporated the instant they 
took that little slip of printed questions in 
their hands.” 

“Sol have learned, ’ ’ said Elizabeth. She 
could not refrain from smiling. Dr. Kitch- 
ell had a jocular manner. His words, even 
in the discussions of the most serious mat¬ 
ters, had a touch of humor. “That is what 
surprised me most. The girls are Chris¬ 
tians, that is, the greater number are. But 
one would have thought it was a reform 
school. I think those days are gone. Every 
Senior and Middler is pledged to conduct 
examinations as they were conducted this 
morning, and we are heartily glad.” 

“So say we all of us,” was the cordial re¬ 
sponse. 

They had come to the hall leading to the 
girls’ dormitory. So far and no farther 
could Dr. Kitchell walk with Miss Hobart. 
Elizabeth hurried to her room. Loud tones 
came from her apartment. Opening the 


AT EXETER HALL. 


303 


door quietly, she peered in as though half 
afraid of what she might encounter. Mary 
Wilson was pacing up and down the room. 
Her head was high. Her chest was ex¬ 
panded. A glow of rhetorical enthusiasm 
was upon her cheeks and in her eye. In 
one hand, she held several sheets of type¬ 
written paper toward which at intervals her 
glance wandered. The other hand sawed 
the air in impressive, if not graceful, ges¬ 
ticulations. IW\ 

She heeded not the entrance of her room¬ 
mate. She continued orating in tones which 
she was striving to make full and round. 
She gave a hurried glance at her paper, 
strode up the room, flung out her hand and 
roared forth, “I’m charged with pride and 
ambition—” 

“What did they charge you for it?” 

“The charge is true—” 

“Well, then, Mary, all I can advise is to 
pay the bill and not say anything more 
about it. If you haven’t change enough, I 
can lend—” 


304 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“And I glory in its truth” 

Sinking back in her chair as though this 
was too much to be borne, Elizabeth sighed 
deeply, then said, “I’m surely surprised at 
you, Mary. Affairs have come to a pretty 
pass when you’re in debt and take glory 
in it.” 

Mary laughed, tossed aside her paper, and 
coming over to her roommate, sat down be¬ 
side her. “It’s my new oration. Miss 
Brosius called me into her office, and gave 
me this to learn. It is really very fine—ef¬ 
fective, if my voice was not quite so high- 
pitched. Listen, I’ve learned so much al¬ 
ready.” She tossed back her locks and as¬ 
sumed a rostrum manner, “ ‘I’m charged 
with pride and ambition. The charge is 
true and I glory in its truth. Whoever 
achieved anything great in letters, art or 
arms who was not ambitious? Cassar was 
not more ambitious than Cicero, it was only 
in another way.’ That’s all I’ve learned. 
Miss Brosius went over so much with me 
that I would get into the spirit of the piece. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


305 


I wish you might hear her read it! She’s 
such a dainty little creature, but she looked 
tall when she was rolling this out.” 

“What is it for? You’ve had all your 
oratory work long ago.” 

“This is especially for commencement. 
You see, we don’t have the old-style exer¬ 
cises. The Dean from some other school 
or some eminent divine comes to deliver a 
lecture. There’s music wherever there’s a 
loophole to slip it in. Then the class in cap 
and gown parade across the stage and re¬ 
ceive their diplomas from Dr. Morgan. Oh, 
it’s all very fine and elegant and all that. 
But there’s no fun in it. The element of 
humor is lacking, and after an hour of it, 
the simple dignity of it palls on one. And 
as for the dresses! Most of the girls wear 
simple white shirtwaist suits under their 
gowns. There are receptions, to be sure; 
but the Middlers and Freshmen attend them, 
and dress as much as the Seniors do. The 
only opportunity a Senior has to trail a long 
gown after her is on Class-day. Then we 


306 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


have all the old orthodox orations and music 
with a two-act farce thrown in, and we may 
wear what we please. And let me announce 
right here, Elizabeth Hobart, your room¬ 
mate will appear in the handsomest white 
evening dress she can get—train, short 
sleeves, high-heeled shoes, and hair piled on 
top of my head.” 

Elizabeth looked at the short locks, barely 
touching the speaker’s shoulders. She 
laughed. 

“You think it can’t be done!” exclaimed 
Mary, with the characteristic toss of her 
head. “But it can. I’m going to have a 
hairdresser. Yes, indeed. When I assume 
the role, I mean to carry it out. Wait until 
you see Mrs. Jones. She can take two hairs 
and twist them about until they look like 
nothing else so much as Paderewski. She 
has fine switches, too.” This was added af¬ 
ter a moment’s thought, and confidentially, 
as though it was not information to be 
passed around. Then with a sigh of satis- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


307 


faction, “One can work wonders with 
switches.’’ 

“You’re not to mention to anyone what 
I am to do for Class-day. Those matters 
are supposed to be secrets. Of course, you 
could not help knowing, for I must practice 
here.” 

In the days following, it was made plain 
that Elizabeth could not have been kept 
from the knowledge of what Mary was do¬ 
ing. From morning until evening, at all 
times, opportune and otherwise, Mary or¬ 
ated. When her throat grew husky from 
her efforts, she compared samples of white 
tulle, and point d’esprit, and embroidered 
mull. She insisted upon Elizabeth’s opin¬ 
ion in regard to each one of them. 

“I’ve learned one thing,” said Elizabeth. 
“I never knew there were more than a hun¬ 
dred varieties of white material. But—” 

“There are thousands of them. I’ve dis¬ 
covered that this last few weeks. One thing 
is gained. You do increase your vocabu¬ 
lary. You must have different adjectives 


308 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


to express your admiration of each kind. 
What do you Middlers plan to do com¬ 
mencement week?” 

Elizabeth looked down her nose. She 
could appear very innocent when she chose. 
“ There was some mention made of a ban¬ 
quet,” she replied. “ There was talk also 
of having a caterer from town.” 

4 ‘Well, I guess not!” exclaimed Mary, 
arising. Her eyes were flashing with the 
spirit of school warfare. 6 6 1 think you Mid¬ 
dlers will think again about having any¬ 
thing so fine. Never in the history of Exe¬ 
ter have the Middlers given a banquet, and 
they shall not now. We shall keep them 
from it. We’ll treat you as the Seniors 
treated us last year. We, too, had a notion 
that we would give a banquet. We were so 
confident that we telephoned our order to 
the caterer; but we didn’t have the ban¬ 
quet.” 

4 ‘Didn’t he receive the order?” The 
question was asked in such an innocent, 
seeking-for-information manner that Mary 


AT EXETER HALL. 


309 


ought to have been suspicious, but she was 
not. 

“Oh, yes, he received the order and the 
money to pay for it. We waited in the 
gym, all togged out in reception gowns, but 
the caterer came not. Suddenly it came to 
us that there must be some mistake. We 
set out to hunt for the banquet. We found 
its remains up in the laboratory where the 
Seniors had been feasting at our expense. 
No, indeed, Elizabeth,’’ Mary shook her 
head slowly, “no Middlers hold banquets 
at Exeter Hall. It isn’t countenanced.” 

“We may try it, anyhow.” 

“I hope you will. I should like to feast 
my friends at the Middlers’ expense.” 

Elizabeth brought up the subject of the 
banquet again and again. Apparently in¬ 
advertently, she let drop many little points 
about the affair which were eagerly seized 
upon by her roommate. Mary was sur¬ 
prised at Elizabeth’s want of discretion. 
She seemed prone to let many a class secret 
escape. 


310 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


It was evident the Middlers were laying 
plans for something. In groups of two and 
three, they surreptitiously visited each 
other. They gathered in hallways for whis¬ 
pered conferences. The Seniors were not 
blind. Each had her appointed work, and 
when the Middlers gathered together, there 
was a Senior concealed near by, with ears 
and eyes open. If the Middlers suspected 
that they were being shadowed, they made 
no signs. 

“It’s a banquet, I’m sure,” confided 
Mary Wilson to Landis and Min. “We 
have our class exercises on Tuesday eve¬ 
ning. The time was set for then, but Eliza¬ 
beth Hobart and some of the others had that 
changed. They wish to attend our exer¬ 
cises. So it will be Wednesday evening. 
Elizabeth was writing when I went into the 
room. Like a flash, she covered the letter; 
but I saw enough to help us out. The letter 
was addressed to Achenbach. I saw the 
word ‘Wednesday.’ ” 

“That settles it; for Nancy Eckdahl was 


AT EXETER HALL. 


311 


making out a menu in chapel yesterday, and 
the Middlers who take water-colors are 
painting place-cards.” 

“What had best be done? I’d like to 
have them send on the banquet and lead 
the delivery men off somewhere else.” 

“But, Mary, that will not be possible. 
Most of the Middlers know what happened 
last year. They’ll keep a watch on us, and 
if they are wise, they’ll send out scouts to 
meet the caterer at the train,” said Marne 
Welch. 

“They shall not banquet if we take it 
from them by force!” Then suddenly her 
face lighted up. “I have it. Landis, you 
must do this part. You have such a don’t- 
interfere-with-me manner that Achenbach 
will do exactly as you wish. Get permis¬ 
sion to go into town. Go to Achenbach’s 
and tell them that the Seniors have discov¬ 
ered where the banquet is to be served, that 
you have come to give new orders, as the 
Seniors are determined to appropriate the 
banquet for themselves.” 



312 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


There were a dozen Seniors in the room. 
They all gave their approval to Miss Wil¬ 
son’s plan. Then they discussed it in detail. 
The laundry, big and bare, would be an. un¬ 
suspected place. There were ironing boards 
and folding tables that would do to serve 
on. 

“And if they are not enough,” exclaimed 
Mary Wilson, “there’s the floor.” 

Landis received her instructions. She 
was to go into the city the following morn¬ 
ing and visit Achenbach, the caterer. She 
was to be as' self-confident as possible. He 
might have been instructed not to tell any¬ 
one where and when his services were or¬ 
dered. Landis was not to be led off by his 
assumed ignorance. She was to tell him 
plainly that she referred to the order sent 
in by Miss Hobart the day before. 

“Just raise your head high and look 
straight at him,” advised Mary Wilson. 
“Scare him into it, Landis.” 

The following morning, according to plan, 
Landis, dressed in the trimmest of tailor- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


313 


made gowns, went to the city. She visited 
Achenbach’s and did as the girls had di¬ 
rected. As had been expected, the clerk 
pleaded ignorance of such orders as she 
mentioned. Landis insisted. The clerk 
then called the proprietor to verify him. If 
the order had been received, both proprie¬ 
tor and attendant acted their parts well. 
Landis could obtain no information from 
them. Yet, to fulfill her errand, still sus¬ 
pecting that they knew more than they 
would tell, Landis, just as she was going, 
left orders to have the banquet served in the 
laundry. “You may think it rather an odd 
place, Mr. Achenbach; but the Seniors stole 
the banquet last year. They will do the 
same now if the opportunity is given them. 
They will do all they can to mislead the men 
you send to serve. Pay no attention to or¬ 
ders after this, but have your men go di¬ 
rectly to the laundry. They must go around 
the back way, of course. One of the class 
will be watching for you.” 

Still Mr. Achenbach protested that there 


314 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


must be some misunderstanding. He liad 
received no orders from Exeter. 

Landis went back to school at once, and 
recounted her experiences to the girls. 
Mary Wilson was confident that Elizabeth 
had sent in the order. They would be on 
their guard that particular evening, and per¬ 
mit no caterer to enter the Hall unless un¬ 
der their orders. 

The Middlers had some plan afoot. If 
not a banquet—what then? But the Se¬ 
niors were agreed it was that. Nancy’s 
roommate had found a carefully-written 
menu. And Landis had surprised another 
Middler painting menu and place cards. 
That it was to take place, was evident. But 
where—when ? The group of Seniors sepa¬ 
rated, each admonishing the others to watch 
the Middlers, and not permit them to talk 
together alone. 

Mary Wilson’s especial duty was to re¬ 
strain Elizabeth from holding communica¬ 
tion with the others. With true diplomacy, 


AT EXETER HALL. 


315 


she kept her roommate busy so that she had 
no time to visit other rooms. 

“Just hear me go over my oration once 
more, Elizabeth, please,” she would say. 
“I’m apt to get careless if I recite without 
an audience. Sit over there by the window. 
I’ll stand here. Now, don’t be afraid to 
tell me if you think I might improve any 
part.” 

And Elizabeth would patiently sit and 
listen. She showed great interest. She 
followed closely every word. She lost no 
gesture, no facial expression. “I think I 
could repeat it word for word,” she said, 
when Mary had practiced for the last time, 
the morning of Class-day. “I could make 
every gesture you do. I’m really looking 
forward to this evening.” 

Mary’s face flushed with pleasure. “I’m 
glad you like it. I hope it will pass off 
well. You see, the chapel will be crowded. 
The galleries are always filled; and visitors 
are glad to get standing room below. It’s 
our best day, and I wish to do myself and 


316 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


the school credit.’’ Then suddenly remem¬ 
bering that she was to find out what she 
could of the Middlers’ plans, she asked sud¬ 
denly, ‘ 6 Have you any engagement for to¬ 
morrow evening, Elizabeth? What do you 
say about getting up a tally-ho party, our 
own set and a few visitors, and driving out 
by moonlight?” 

Elizabeth turned her head aside as though 
she did not wish Mary to see her embarrass¬ 
ment. She hesitated before replying. “I 
—I—don’t believe I can, Mary.” 

“Have you any engagement?” 

“Well,—Oh, I don’t know what to say. 
Please don’t ask me.” 

Mary smiled to herself, then turned back 
to the mirror for the better arrangement of 
her hair. Her convictions were strength¬ 
ened. Whatever the Middlers had on hand, 
to-morrow night was the time for the do¬ 
ings. When to-morrow night came—! 
Mary smiled at the thought. To-morrow 
night would find every Middler followed by 
a Senior. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


317 


The week had begun with the excitement 
usually attendant upon commencement. 
Relatives and friends began to appear on 
Monday. The continuous flow of guests 
taxed to the limit the accommodations of the 
Hall. Bedrooms were doing double duty. 
Meals were taken in relays. Every one 
bore with exceedingly good humor the little 
inconveniences incident to such an over¬ 
flow. 

Dr. Shull of the Irvington Female Col¬ 
lege lectured to the class Tuesday morning. 
This was followed by the presentation of di¬ 
plomas. The graduates in caps and gowns 
marched through the chapel and across the 
stage. So far as commencement proper 
was concerned, this was their first and last 
appearance. 

“But wait until this evening, and the 
Thursday night promenade! Well shine 
then,” Mary Wilson had whispered confi¬ 
dentially to her friends. “Every girl in the 
class has done herself proud about her new 
gowns—one for the prom and one for to- 


318 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


night, not to mention a few extras for the 
tree-planting and the rose parade.’’ 

The eventful evening came at last. Mrs. 
Jones bearing extra switches and fancy 
combs, her ebony face wreathed in smiles, 
had already arrived, and stood waiting Miss 
Wilson’s pleasure. The much-talked-of 
dress of shimmering silk, over which point 
d’esprit hung like a cloud, lay over the bed 
ready for its wearer. 

The girls were hurrying, as the time was 
growing short. Elizabeth stood ready to 
slip into the simple white frock which Joe 
Ratowsky had brought from Bitumen a few 
days before. She took up her dress and 
then laid it down again, and turned to the 
mirror pretending to put a stray lock in 
place. 

“Hurry, you’ll have no time to waste, 
Elizabeth. You must get in early if you 
wish a seat.” 

Just then a knock came at the door. 
Without waiting an invitation, Nancy 
thrust her head in. She had not yet 


AT EXETER HALL. 


319 


dressed; but was wearing a bright kimono, 
her yellow hair streaming over her 
shoulders. 

“Mary, hurry up to the chapel anteroom. 
Oh, don’t wait to dress. There’s a change 
in the program and every one who is to take 
part must come at once. Hurry! They are 
waiting for you.” 

Picking up the belt she had just dis¬ 
carded, and fastening it as she walked, 
Mary hurriedly quitted the room. The an¬ 
teroom was a small place fitted up like a 
parlor, at the side of the stage and on a 
level with it. A single pane of glass 
fixed solidly in the wall gave the occupants 
a view of the stage, yet they could not be 
seen by the audience. It was here the 
teacher of oratory sat during the perform¬ 
ance. At times, it served as a dressing- 
room. 

The curtain was down. In order to save 
time and steps, Mary ran across the stage, 
between the scenery. At her hurried knock 
a key was turned, and the door of the ante- 


320 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


room opened wide enough to allow her to 
slip in. 

“Hush!” the doorkeeper whispered, care¬ 
fully locking the door after admitting her. 

Landis, Marne, Anna Cresswell and a 
dozen others were already there. 

“Are we all here now?” whispered the 
doorkeeper. They began to count. The 
light was so dim that they could barely dis¬ 
tinguish faces. 

c 6 Fourteen, ’ ’ said Landis. 6 ‘ That is all. ’’ 

“Be sure,” admonished the keeper of the 
keys in sepulchral tones. “I would not 
for worlds have one absent.” 

“That’s all.” “Fourteen.” “We’re all 
here.” “Bo tell us so that we can hurry 
back to dress!” came from the members of 
the group. 

At this, the girl with the keys drew her 
chair close to a second door leading into a 
dark, unfinished attic. Over the door which 
was nailed shut was a small transom. As 
she mounted the chair, Mary Wilson for the 
first time recognized her as a Miss Bowman, 


AT EXETER HALL. 


321 


a special student in music, neither a Middler 
nor a Senior. 

“Then,” said Miss Bowman, lifting her 
hand with the key in it to the open transom, 
and turning to face the girls, “then we’ll 
stay here. ” With that she dropped the key 
into the attic. They were prisoners; she, 
with them. 

“It’s those Middlers,” groaned Mary 
Wilson. “We might have known; and my 
little innocent Elizabeth is at the bottom of 
this.” 

“Console yourselves,” advised Miss Bow¬ 
man. “When the curtain goes up, you will 
have a fine view of the Senior exercises. 
They will be well worth the price you’ve 
paid for admission.” 





























r 







CHAPTER XIII. 

IMPKISONMENT. 

Elizabeth turned the key in the lock the 
instant Mary stepped from the room. Then, 
as quickly as possible, she got into her room¬ 
mate’s white gown. Mrs. Jones, with a 
broad smile playing over her ebony fea¬ 
tures, stood by with pins and ribbons. 
From her mysterious boxes, that Mary sup¬ 
posed contained the switches with which one 
could do wonders, she brought forth a wig 
of yellow-brown hair. 

“’Pears like this ’ud do. The other 
young lady hab hair what just come to her 
shoulders.” 

“It is just fine,” exclaimed Elizabeth, “as 
near the color of Miss Wilson’s as I can 
hope for.” She studied herself in the mir¬ 
ror as Mrs. Jones adjusted the wig. “I 
323 


324 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


know every gesture that Mary makes except 
this.” She gave her head a toss, shaking 
back the fringe of hair about her shoulders. 

She hurried dressing for it was almost 
time for the curtain to rise. “There!” she 
cried. “I’m ready. I hope the way is 
clear for me.” 

Hastening to the door, she peered into the 
hall. Not a ‘noble Senior’ was in sight. 
The girls flitting through the dormitories 
were Middlers and Freshmen. Confident 
that she was safe from interference, Eliza¬ 
beth, her white gown trailing after her, 
started forth for the chapel. Nancy Eck- 
dahl and Marne Welch joined her at the foot 
of the stairway. 

“Don’t I look like a boiled lobster?” cried 
Nancy. “But this was the only dress any¬ 
where near my size. It’s Nora O’Day’s. 
Isn’t it handsome? It is unfortunate that 
she is so dark and I so fair. But it was 
this or nothing. Think of a yellow-haired 
girl in an orange-colored gown.” 

The effect was startling. Nora, with her 


AT EXETER HALL. 325 

dark eyes and coloring, would have looked 
like a picture in this vivid orange; hut 
Nancy, with her blue eyes and flaxen hair, 
looked anything but picturesque. 

“But you are comfortable,” gasped 
Mame, in short breaths. ‘ ‘ If Min Kean had 
had a little more flesh on her bones when 
this dress was fitted, I would have felt bet¬ 
ter now. Nancy had to use a shoe-hook to 
fasten the buttons.” 

“Have you seen Laura Downs? She 
looks exactly like Landis. The dress fits 
except it is a little short in the waist; but 
Azzie pinned up the skirt. It doesn’t look 
bad. She was in our room before she went 
down. And she ‘did’ Landis to perfection 
—that same haughty manner that Landis 
has when she means to impress one.” 

As they moved along, their number in¬ 
creased. The leading spirits of the Middler 
class were there, each decked out in the 
new gown that some Senior, whose manner 
and tricks of speech she had been studying 
for weeks to impersonate, would have worn 


326 ELIZABETH HOBART 

had she not been locked up in the little 
greenroom near the stage of the chapel. 

There had been no Middler of sufficient 
height and dignity to impersonate Dr. Mor¬ 
gan. Yet she was a light of so great magni¬ 
tude that she could not be ignored. Miss 
Hogue, a special student, a girl devoted to 
the classics, and a writer for all the school 
papers, had been pressed into service. Dr. 
Morgan when she had appeared upon the 
rostrum during the commencement exercises 
had worn a gown of black lace, its sombre 
tone relieved by cuffs and collar of cream 
duchess. She was very slender and erect. 
Her mass of brown hair, touched with gray, 
was always dressed in the same style. Dur¬ 
ing all the years she had been at Exeter, it 
had been worn in a great coil on the top of 
her head. Dr. Morgan was no longer young. 
During the last year, she had been com- 
pelled to use eye-glasses. These were at¬ 
tached to her bodice by a gold chain. As she 
talked they were held in her hand the 
greater part of the time. In physique, Miss 


AT EXETER HALL. 


327 


Hogue was Dr. Morgan’s double. Robed, 
in the black gown, which she had borrowed 
from Dr. Morgan’s maid, and with her hair 
powdered, she could have easily passed as 
the doctor herself. 

Miss Bowman, in company with her four¬ 
teen Seniors, sat in the greenroom and 
waited. There was no lack of conversation, 
although Miss Bowman took little part in 
it. However, she was an interested listener, 
and laughed heartily at the remarks of her 
charges. They threatened her; they ca¬ 
joled; they flattered; they offered her all 
the good things that could be laid at a Se¬ 
nior’s feet during Commencement. When 
these availed nothing, they expressed them¬ 
selves strongly. At intervals of a few min¬ 
utes, one of the girls would try the doors, 
shaking them, and pounding with her fists 
on the panels. 

“There are other Seniors somewhere,” 
cried Mary Wilson. “If we could make 
them hear, we’d soon be out of here. We’d 
stop the Middlers’ banquet.” 


328 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Miss Bowman laughed. “Do you still 
think it is a banquet ? Well, it isn’t. They 
hadn’t the least idea of giving one.” 

“But I saw the letter that Elizabeth Ho¬ 
bart sent to Achenbach, the caterer. Isn’t 
that proof enough?” And Mary looked as 
if, had this been a legal case, she had Black- 
stone on her side. 

“I saw the orders myself,” she assever¬ 
ated. 

“Of course you did! Elizabeth intended 
you should!” 

“But if there was not going to be a ban¬ 
quet, why should they take all the trouble 
to make us believe there was?” 

“Because, while you were hunting on the 
wrong scent, they could go on with their 
plans. You poor Seniors,” compassion¬ 
ately, “how you did work to stop that ban¬ 
quet! Landis had her trip to the city for 
nothing. Do you know, I don’t believe you 
could have had it served in the laundry! It 
gets chilly and damp there in the evening.” 

“I’ll get out of this! I won’t stay locked 


AT EXETER HALL. 


329 


up,” cried Mary. “Come, girls, let's all 
yell together and pound on the floor.” 

Pandemonium reigned for a few mo¬ 
ments. Miss Bowman, exasperatingly cool, 
sat smiling. When the clamor ceased, she 
said, “Really, you are very childish. Why 
not accept this with the spirit of philos¬ 
ophers ? You are here—you cannot get out 
until the Middlers see fit. Why not sit 
down and converse sweetly? There’s the 
weather. It’s a safe subject. Nothing per¬ 
sonal about it. Or if you wish—” 

“Shut up!” cried Mary, stamping her 
feet, and wholly losing her temper. “If 
you had that key we’d fall upon you tooth 
and nail.” 

“And take it from you!” It was Landis 
who finished the remark. 

“So I thought!” responded Miss Bow¬ 
man complacently. “That’s why I haven’t 
it.” 

It was Min Kean who first showed the 
spirit of a philosopher. “Oh, what’s the 
use of fussing about it? We’re here, and I 


330 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


suppose we shall stay here until those Mid- 
dlers see fit to let us out. The more fuss we 
make, the more fun for them.” 

At this Landis drew herself erect. 
“That is just what I was about to say. A 
great deal of their fun will vanish when 
they discover that it is all one to us whether 
we get out or stay here. I’m about as 
well satisfied. My throat was a little husky 
anyway. Perhaps I would not have been 
able to make that high note. How morti¬ 
fied I should have been!” 

She spoke in seeming sincerity. Mary 
Wilson eyed her suspiciously. She sighed. 
“Landis believes that we are what we make 
people believe we are. You would make a 
capital actress, Landis. The only fault you 
have is that you would always be playing 
to the gallery.” 

Her hearers laughed, accepting the re¬ 
mark as a bit of pleasant chatter. Mary 
did not fully grasp how much truth her re¬ 
marks contained. Landis alone appreciated 
the words. Her face flushed and she 


AT EXETER HALL. 


331 


turned her head aside for an instant that 
the girls might not see she was hurt. 

“I don’t know but that it is a good 
thing,” Mary rattled on. “We’re sure of 
an audience, at least. What shall we do 
now?” 

“What can we do?” wailed a meek-look- 
ing little Senior from the darkest corner of 
the room. “There’s nothing except ask 
conundrums. I’ll begin. Why did we 
ever—?” 

“What more do you want?” asked Lan¬ 
dis, turning about quickly to face them. 
“I’ll begin. What goes around a—” 

“Hush hush,” came a chorus of whispers. 
From the chapel below music could be 
heard. It was the Germania orchestra of 
twelve pieces from the city, to secure which 
the Seniors had heavily taxed themselves. 

“All that music going to waste,” wailed 
the little figure from the dark corner. 

“It’s not going to waste, dearly beloved,” 
came the response from Miss Bowman. 
“The Middlers will enjoy it even more than 


332 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


you would have done. They are not paying 
the bill.” 

The instant the music ceased, the drop 
went up. Again a groan arose from the 
prisoners. They could see all that was en¬ 
acted on the stage, yet could not hear the 
words. i i 

“There’s Dr. Morgan,” whispered Mary. 
“She can’t know that anything is wrong, 
and that we are locked up here. When she 
turns toward us I’ll tap, and she’ll see to 
it that we are set free.” 

A tall and stately figure, in an imported 
gown of black lace, crossed the stage. 
Reaching the center she paused, raised her 
eye-glasses and swept the audience with her 
characteristic glance. She began her re¬ 
marks, and had said but a few words when 
she was stopped by a round of applause. 
The Seniors who had not been booked for 
that evening’s performance understood that 
something had gone amiss. There were 
hurried remarks—“It isn’t the Doctor;” 
“It’s that Miss Hogue;”—“That’s the girl 


AT EXETER HALL. 


that’s in our classics;”—“This is the Mod¬ 
ellers’ work.” 

Miss Hogue, following Dr. Morgan’s 
manner, gave almost word for word the ad¬ 
dress of the morning. She did it well. A 
round of applause followed her from the 
stage. She returned to receive the flowers 
which were intended for Dr. Morgan, then 
announced as the next number an oration 
by Miss Wilson. 

“Well, I couldn’t hear what she was talk¬ 
ing about,” sighed Mary from her place in 
the greenroom. “But it was just the way 
Dr. Morgan would have done. Did you no¬ 
tice how she raised her glasses, then turned 
her head to look sharply*? The Doctor does 
that every time. Who’s this dressed in—” 
She didn’t finish her question. She paused 
to look closely. Then exclaimed, “Oh, 
Elizabeth Hobart, you little Spaniard! 
And with my dress on, too.” 

Elizabeth swept across the stage. She 
paused a moment, then tossed back her 
hair. 


334 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“Miss Wilson!” “Miss Wilson!” came 
the appreciative cries from the Freshmen 
and specials sitting below. The Seniors, in 
little groups of twos and threes, had their 
heads together arranging for a general ac¬ 
tion. They were so scattered throughout 
the house that quick planning was impossi¬ 
ble. 

“I am charged with pride and ambition,” 
began Elizabeth, in the same tones and with 
the same gestures she had heard and seen 
Mary use hundreds of times while practic¬ 
ing. Even those in the greenroom caught 
her words. 

“I’ve another charge against her,” ex¬ 
claimed Miss Wilson. “ She’s purloined my 
dress. Oh, I wish she would look this way. ’ ’ 

But Elizabeth was wise. She let no 
glance wander toward the greenroom. 
She tossed back her locks again, threw out 
her hands and continued, “The charge is 
true, and I glory in its truth. Whoever 
achieved anything great in letters, arts or 
arms who was not ambitious? Caesar was 


AT EXETER HALL. 335 

not more ambitious than Cicero. It was 
only in another way.” She went through 
the oration without a pause, and bowed her¬ 
self from the stage in the midst of a round 
of hearty applause from the delighted audi¬ 
ence. 

Dr. Morgan, with her usual dignity, an¬ 
nounced that Miss Landis Stoner from Pot¬ 
ter County being absent by foreseen circum¬ 
stances, Miss Marne Welch would sing the 
“ Jewel Song” from Faust. 

Marne, resplendent but uncomfortable in 
the finery belonging to Landis, then ap¬ 
peared. She raised her head, straightened 
her shoulders, looking unutterably bored and 
weary, although self-confident enough for a 
score of such songs. But the instant her 
voice arose, the Seniors who had gotten to¬ 
gether started to sing. Their voices filled 
the chapel, drowning out even the laughter 
and applause. 

“Where, oh, where are this year’s Seniors, 
Where, oh, where are this year’s Seniors, 

They are not in the cold, cold world. 


336 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Every one sing for the grand old Seniors, 
Every one sing for the grand old Seniors, 

For they’re not in the cold, cold world.” 

The moment there was a lull, Miss Welch 
caught her own tune and started bravely 
on her song, only to be again drowned out. 
She did not give up. She sang in spite of 
all opposition, for the most part out of the 
tune. Then with the airs and manner of 
one who had succeeded beyond all expecta¬ 
tions, she left the stage, in some disorder 
but not vanquished. 

The pseudo Dr. Morgan then arose, ’ and 
with the dignity born of her position and 
years, requested order, saying that if there 
was further interruption she must ask the 
watchmen present to expel the disturbing 
element. Her speech was a master stroke. 
Exeter then had a dozen special officers 
about the grounds and buildings. Most of 
them had never been in Dr. Morgan’s pres¬ 
ence. Those in attendance, not understand¬ 
ing the state of affairs, took the request in 


AT EXETER HALL. 


337 


good faith, believing that it was the real 
Dean of Exeter addressing them. 

Then the farce which the Seniors had 
prepared was played. 

Nancy, or the “boiled lobster,” as she had 
nicknamed herself, was last to appear. 

She played on Nora O’Day’s guitar “The 
Spanish Cavalier,” the only selection she 
could pick out, and sang it in a weak, trem¬ 
bling soprano. Nora both sang and played 
well. Nancy, in her vivid orange gown, did 
her best. Her audience, by this time con¬ 
scious that there was something amiss, 
could no longer be suppressed. 

“Oh, say, darling, say, 

When I’m far away, 

Some times yon may think of me, dear—” 

“Could he ever think of anything else 1 ?” 
came in a stage-whisper from below. 
Every one heard, and every one smiled. 
Nancy sang on: 


“I’m off to the war —” 


338 ELIZABETH HOBART 

“I don’t blame Mm,” came 
Laughter swept over the hall. 

“To the war I must go—” 


again. 


“Don’t bother about returning—” 

Nancy laughed aloud. The curtain fell. 
The program for the evening was finished. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

RETALIATION. 

The Seniors accepted the Middlers’ fun 
in good part. Even Mary forgave Eliza¬ 
beth the wearing of her new gown. 

“Oh, well,” Mary had exclaimed after the 
affair was over, and a group of girls had 
gathered in her room, “ 4 Every dog has his 
day/ We had ours last year; and next 
year you will pay the fiddler for a new set 
of Middlers.” 

“If they don’t pay before that,” said 
Landis, sententiously. 

“It’s a long lane that has no turning,” 
said Min. 

“But we will leave before the turn 
comes,” laughed Elizabeth. 

“What will you do?” 

339 


340 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“Jump the fence and take to the fields,” 
was Elizabeth’s reply. 

“If I wear my orange gown to-night will 
I look like Nancy?” asked Nora O’Day. 

“I hope not,” said Nancy, while a chorus 
of strong negatives arose from the other 
girls. 

“Then I’ll wear it,” said Nora. 

The excellent spirit with which the Se¬ 
niors took their imprisonment was quite 
enough to awaken suspicion in the minds of 
Middlers had they been in a cautious mood. 
But they were too uplifted with their re¬ 
cent success to think of aught else. Beside, 
there was little time now for planning and 
executing vengeance. Dr. Morgan gave a 
tea to the Seniors and their friends late 
that afternoon. Thursday evening was the 
date for the hall and banquet. Friday the 
general exodus would begin. 

“What have you on hand for this morn¬ 
ing?” asked Mary, as she and Elizabeth 
were dressing for breakfast. 

“There’s plenty. I’m undecided what to 


AT EXETER HALL. 341 

do. One party is going boating; another 
plans to take a tally-ho ride, and have lunch 
under the trees which mark the place of the 
Wyoming massacre. The Freshmen are 
having a small “feed” down in room B. 
Everyone in this hall is invited. It’s a mild 
affair. Just drop in, eat a sandwich and 
salad, exchange addresses, and how yourself 
out. I think I’ll go out boating first and 
then attend the Freshmen’s 4 drop-in.’ And 
you?” 

Mary sighed. “I must rest a little for 
Dr. Morgan ' ‘at home.’ I haven’t had 
enough sir p for a week. I know I look 
like Medusa. I’ll start my packing, sort of 
get my personal belongings into ,hape. If 
I have time, I may walk down to the boat¬ 
house. But on’t wait for me. Any one of 
a score of trifles may delay m,e.” 

This conversation took place about eight 
o’clock. That was the last ’the two girls 
saw of each other until Mary, decked out in 
her new gown, came down the hall on the 
way to Dr. Morgan’s apartments. Eliza- 


342 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


beth, dusty and tired, bad that moment re¬ 
turned from tbe day’s outing. 

“You’ve been out in the sun, with only 
that brimless cap on your head,” was Mary’s 
greeting. “I should have warned you how 
sunny that boat ride is. I see two new 
freckles on the bridge of your nose now.” 

“Well, if there’s only two, I shan’t mind. 
When will you be back?” 

“In half an hour or so. Put on your 
cream colored dress for dinner. There’s to 
be doings afterward, and you’ll be ready. 
Were any of our girls with you?” 

“No; I haven’t seen one to-day; neither at 
the boat-house nor on our ride.” 

During commencement week, the regular 
order of meals was infringed upon. Din¬ 
ner began earlier and lasted later than usual. 
The students took second place, giving pre¬ 
cedence to the guests and Seniors. So it 
came about that the Middlers and Freshmen 
had scarcely finished before time for the be¬ 
ginning of the evening festivities. 

“Every one is to go to chapel after din- 


AT EXETER HALL. 343 

ner,” someone started the order. It was 
passed on and on until all the girls of the 
first and second classes received the word. 

The dresses which they had worn to din¬ 
ner answered for such an informal affair as 
this must be, to judge from the manner of 
issuing the invitations. 

As they quitted the dining-hall, Elizabeth 
looked about for Mary, but could not find 
her. Nora, Landis, Min and Anna Cress- 
well also were among the missing. Then she 
hurried to join Nancy and Marne. 

“Mary is not to be found. Perhaps she 
has already gone to chapel.” 

The audience hall was almost filled when 
they entered. Bright fans on the wing 
looked like a swarm of gay butterflies. 
The subdued hush of conversation came 
from all parts of the room. Elizabeth 
looked about but could not see her room¬ 
mate. 

“How perfectly awful the stage looks!” 
whispered Marne, who possessed the artistic 
temperament. “I think I could have deco- 


344 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


rated it better than that. I feel mournful 
at the mere looking at it.” 

The stage had been robbed of its furni¬ 
ture. A high-backed chair and reading- 
desk of black walnut were the only pieces 
in sight. White roses were there in pro¬ 
fusion but not one bit of color. 

While conversation buzzed, and fans 
fluttered, Azzie, dressed as somberly as the 
rostrum looked, walked slowly down the 
main aisle. Her gown was of some thin 
black stuff. She suited her walk and ex¬ 
pression to match the color of her dress. 
She wore no flowers. A big roll of music 
was in her hand. 

“ She’s going to play.” Bach one 
straightened her shoulders and leaned 
eagerly forward, fairly holding her breath 
in anticipation, for Azzie’s fame as a pianist 
was far-reaching. 

Moving slowly to the front of the rostrum, 
she seated herself at the piano. So she sat 
for a few moments without touching the 
keys. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


345 


Slowly following her came Anna Cress- 
well, in gown bnt no cap. Her linen collar 
and cuffs showed white against the dead 
black of her student’s robe. With glances 
neither to right nor left, she slowly ad¬ 
vanced, mounted the rostrum, and solemnly 
seated herself in the high-backed chair of 
polished walnut. Then Azzie touched the 
keys and gave expression to the most melan¬ 
choly dirge one could conceive. So sympa¬ 
thetic was her music that a hush fell over 
the chattering audience. 

“What has possessed the girl?” whis¬ 
pered Marne Welch, almost in tears but de¬ 
termined to keep a brave front. “I feel as 
though I was about to attend my own fun¬ 
eral. This is so unlike Azzie. Her music 
is generally brilliant.” 

Still the wail of sorrow sobbed itself out 
from beneath Azzie’s fingers. In a moment 
more, the audience would have been in tears. 
She sat for a moment silent. When she 
touched the keys again, it was to give ex¬ 
pression to a march, measured, heavy, sol- 


346 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


eirni. At this, emerging from the rear of 
the chapel came the Seniors, in caps and 
gowns, two by two, with heads bowed, and 
“faces as long as the moral law,” whispered 
Marne to Elizabeth. 

The first six carried between them a long 
narrow box, over which the Middler class 
colors, green and white, had been draped, 
and on which rested a stiff wreath of white 
artificial flowers tied with streamers of vivid 
green. Advancing to the front, the six 
bearers deposited their burden before the 
rostrum, then took their places with the 
other robed figures upon the front seats. 
All the while Azzie played her solemn dead 
march. 

At the conclusion, Miss Oresswell arose to 
announce they would begin the services by 
singing the popular ballad “Gio tell Aunt 
Nancy.” At this, the mournful singers, 
with Azzie accompanying them, sang in 
wailing, heart-broken voices: 


AT EXETER HALL. 


347 


“Go, tell Doc Morgan, 

Go, tell Doc Morgan, 

Go, tell Doc Morgan, 

Her Middler Class is dead. 

“They’re unreliable, 

They’re unreliable, 

They’re unreliable, 

Is what she’s often said. 

“Their heads illustrate, 

Their heads illustrate, 

Their heads illustrate, 

What a perfect vacuum is. 

“Ofttimes she said this, 
Ofttimes she said this, 
Ofttimes she said this, 
Teaching the Seniors ‘phis.’ 

“Go, tell the doctor, 

Go, tell the doctor, 

Go, tell the doctor, 

Wherefore the class is dead. 

“An idea came floating, 

An idea came floating, 

An idea came floating, 

And struck its empty head.” 


348 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Each Senior did her part well, maintain¬ 
ing an expression which was the picture of 
grief. At the close of the song, Miss Cress- 
well advanced to the reading J stand. She 
assumed an oratorical tone. There was a 
note of pathos in all she said. “ There came 
to Exeter Hall some ten months ago ,’ 7 she 
began, “the class whose early demise we are 
now making famous with these ceremonies. 
They were young then. They continued to 
remain young—” 

“So young,” came in a sad-voiced chorus 
from the singers. 

“They were green,—-they remained so un¬ 
til their passing away. I repeat, they were 
green—” 

“Oh, so green,” came the sobbing chorus. 

“The faculty looked upon them and 
sighed, a great sigh of disappointment. Yet 
with that noble heartedness, that philan¬ 
thropic desire to feed the hungry, clothe the 
naked, minister unto the feeble-minded 
which marks our honored Dr. Morgan and 
her fellow workers, they took up the bur- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


349 


den, determined to do their best. Yet, 
despite their great efforts, the class did not 
advance as other classes have done. Nor 
yet could it retrograde for it stood in a po¬ 
sition where any backward movement was 
impossible. It was known throughout Exe¬ 
ter as the ‘ caudle appendage ’ class, being 
‘away back.’ 

“The Seniors, too, did all that lay in their 
power to enlighten these Middlers both in¬ 
tellectually and morally. But our efforts 
were like ‘casting pearls before swine.’ 
The Middlers were not only no better for 
our efforts, but seemed wholly unconscious 
that they stood in need of moral and intel¬ 
lectual support. 

“Yet none of us regret the work that we 
did in their behalf. We planted the seed, 
but the soil was barren. Our efforts toward 
their cultivation was like breathing a con¬ 
cord of sweet sound into a vacuum. There 
was no volume of matter to perpetuate and 
carry it forth. It is not that we wish to 
censure them. Lacking the capacity to en- 


350 ELIZABETH HOBART 

joy the higher life of school, we can not 
blame them that they amused themselves 
with mere toys. We Seniors who wear the 
philosopher’s cap and gown must bear in 
mind that it would ill become the clown or 
jester. We listen to the music which rolls 
down the ages; but the tinkle of the bells 
won the ears of the Middlers. It is ever 
so. The world cannot be all of the higher 
ideal element. They cannot all be Se¬ 
niors.” 

She paused to touch the colors of the Mid- 
dler class—green and white. 

“These are the symbols of the late la¬ 
mented Middler class. How appropriate! 
The white represents the conditions of the 
examination sheets they habitually handed 
in not a line, not a letter. Blank, quite 
blank. It is the opinion of the faculty that 
this also represented the condition of their 
brains. I do not fully agree with this. I 
believe that at rare intervals, and when 
under the influence of proper environment 
for example, the presence of some Senior’ 


AT EXETER HALL. 


351 


the minds of the Middlers did receive some 
impression;—slight, we acknowledge. Yet 
we hold an impression, a faint suggestion of 
an idea, was there. 

“The second color! Green! How beau¬ 
tiful, how appropriate. It represents our 
lamented Middlers as they stood before the 
world. They were so verdant! 

“As to the age of the departed class, both 
much and little might be said. The records 
show that as a class they existed just ten 
short months; to the faculty and Seniors it 
seems like ten long years. 

“During their sojourn, the hospital of 
Exeter has been filled with—teachers suffer¬ 
ing from nervous prostration. Dr. Mor¬ 
gan’s ebony locks have turned silver. Dur¬ 
ing the holidays Miss Wilhelm, who tried to 
teach them classics, in a fit of desperation 
sought refuge in matrimony. We might 
speak more fully of the effects of their being 
among us were it not that we believe in in¬ 
terring the evil they have done with their 
bones. 


352 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“With this short eulogy, I close. Miss 
Stoner, a Senior, who has suffered much be¬ 
cause of the shortcomings of the Middlers, 
will sing a solo appropriate to the occasion, 
the others joining in the chorus.” 

Landis advanced. Azzie struck up an ac¬ 
companiment, while the whole class of Se¬ 
niors came out strong on the refrain. 

4 ‘ They were so young, this Middler class of ours, 

They brought to mind the newly-opened flowers. 
They to the grasses closely were related. 

They were so green, so unsophisticated. 

(Refrain) 

Softly speak, and lowly bow your head, 
"We are alone. The Middler class is dead. 

“We did our best. No duty left undone 
Weighs on our hearts at the setting of the sun. 
What though their choice was weeds instead of 
flowers 

Censure not us. The fault was never ours. 

From early dawn until the dim twilight 
We were to them a bright and shining light. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


353 


(Refrain) 

Weep if yon can; slowly, lightly tread. 

They are gone. The Middler class is dead. 

Th 1 Middler—class—is—d-e-a-d. ’ ’ 

With this, the Seniors arose. Six again 
took possession of the long box. The pro¬ 
cession filed slowly from the room, while 
Azzie played a dirge. 

The Middlers and Freshmen followed 
after them, and the laughing and chattering 
began again. Every one was humming 
“The Middler—class—is dead.” 

The line of girls passed down the main 
hall, the audience following them to see what 
new thing was to take place. 

The members of the faculty, with Dr. 
Morgan, stood here. At the sight of their 
smile-wreathed faces, the gravity of the 
Seniors gave way. Landis laughed aloud. 
The others followed her example. The lines 
broke. The girls gathered about the teach¬ 
ers, talking and making merry over their 
escapade. 

“I never realized what a nervous strain 


354 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


it is to control oneself so long/’ said Nora, 
joining Dr. Morgan. “I felt as though I 
must shriek and laugh, and there I had to 
sit and pretend to be overcome with sor¬ 
row.” 

Dr. Morgan had been glancing over a spe¬ 
cial edition of the evening paper. She 
folded it quickly as Nora came up to her. 
“You did admirably, Miss O’Day,” she said. 
“I could not be present all the while.” 

Nora O’Day did not hear. She was lean¬ 
ing forward, her lips parted; her eyes, 
bright with excitement, were upon the pa¬ 
per. 

“May I see this for a moment, Dr. Mor¬ 
gan?” she asked excitedly. “What is it 
about the strike?” 

She had the paper in her hand, reading 
the article before Dr. Morgan had time to 
reply. It was a full resume of the trouble 
at Bitumen from early fall until the pres¬ 
ent, telling of the threatened attack upon 
Superintendent Hobart and the new miners 
and the call for State troops. The corre- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


355 


spondent prophesied that the militia could 
not arrive in time to prevent bloodshed, the 
capital being two hundred miles from the 
scene of trouble, and the railway up the 
mountain having already been destroyed by 
the miners. 

Nora grasped the meaning instantly. 
There was no mention made of the name of 
Dennis O’Day. He was not a miner. In 
the eyes of the world, he had no power. 
Miners themselves did not realize that it 
was he alone who instigated the strike, and 
that their leaders had been his choice. Out¬ 
wardly, Dennis O’Day had washed his 
hands of the whole affair. So long as he 
escaped legal responsibility, he would, shrug 
his shoulders, and stand by to watch the 
fight. He could be eliminated without ef¬ 
fecting the result. But Nora O’Day, who 
understood her father as no one else had 
ever understood him, saw his work here. 
She knew that for years he had been the 
unseen moving power. 

The bubble of laughter and fun was about 


356 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


her. She looked up piteously into Dr. 
Morgan’s face, her lips trembling with emo¬ 
tion. She loved her father. Shame and 
fear for him overwhelmed her. 

“I—I know—some—some people there. 
That is why I—I was anxious.” 

“I wish you would not mention the mat¬ 
ter to anyone. We see no reason to distress 
Miss Hobart unnecessarily. Her knowing 
the condition of affairs would result in 
needless worry without helping matters 
any.” 

“Why—Elizabeth—is she—has she—” 

“Her father, you know, Miss O’Day, is 
the superintendent of the Bitumen mines.” 

At that Nora O’Day gave a startled cry, 
and buried her face in her hands. “I 
didn’t—know—I didn’t know. Poor Eliz¬ 
abeth—” she sobbed. 

Her behavior was claiming the attention 
of others. To shield her from the attention 
of the passing throng, Dr. Morgan drew her 
within the private office. She anticipated 
comforting an hysterical girl. But in a 


AT EXETER HALL. 


357 


moment Miss O ’Day controlled herself. 

“When will the troops reach Bitumen?” 
she asked, drawing herself up, afire with 
purpose. 

“Not before to-morrow night. That is 
the earliest possible time. It is presumed 
the miners, hearing of the call for help, will 
bring matters to a climax at once.” 

“Dr. Morgan, will you telephone McCan- 
tey’s livery? They know my father down 
there. Tell them to send the man Jefferies 
if they can, and fast horses. Elizabeth Ho¬ 
bart and I will go to Bitumen to-night. I’ll 
stop the trouble.” 

“Dear child, you’re—crazy,” said Dr. 
Morgan, surprised by such a suggestion. 

“Far from it. I’m going, with or with¬ 
out your permission. Please telephone 
now, and I’ll explain while I await their 
coming. Tell them it’s a matter of life and 
death. If I kill the horses with hard driv¬ 
ing, I’ll pay twice what they’re worth. 
Every minute counts! Won’t you tele¬ 
phone?” 


358 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Dr. Morgan obeyed the peremptory re¬ 
quest. She believed that news of the strike 
had affected Nora until she did not know 
what she was about. She would accede to 
her request, and perhaps by the time the 
horses were at the Hall, Miss O’Day would 
listen to reason. 

“Now,” said Nora, the order having been 
given, “I’ll tell you some facts about my¬ 
self and my family you never knew. I 
know who has brought this strike about, and 
I know how to stop it.” She spoke calmly, 
methodically. Dr. Morgan seated herself 
to listen. Miss O ’Day began her story. 
When she had finished, the horses were at 
the door, Jefferies with them. Dr. Morgan 
hesitated. 

“I’ve known Jefferies for years. He is 
a friend of my father. He will take care 
of us,” said Nora, studying the expression 
of Dr. Morgan’s face. 

Then go, Nora. My prayers go with 
you.” 

A few minutes later, Elizabeth, the center 


AT EXETER HALL. 


359 


of a laughing group, was drawn hurriedly 
aside by Nora. 

“Here’s a long storm coat. Put it on 
over your light dress. We have no time 
to change. Put on the cap, and tie a heavy 
veil upon it. It is raining; but it will mat¬ 
ter little.” The speaker was enveloped in a 
long, dark, travelling cloak, beneath which 
her orange colored gown showed. A soft 
hat swathed in a heavy veil hid her head 
and face. 

Elizabeth did as she was bid, being wholly 
carried away by the excitement and force 
in the speaker’s voice. 

“Why—what—” she began. 

“Don’t waste time talking. There, you 
are ready. Come!” 

“G-o with your friend,” said Dr. Morgan. 
“She will tell you on the way.” 

She walked with them to the door. The 
girls passed out into the storm and the 
night. 



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CHAPTER XV. 


VICTORY, 

The country roads were almost ankle deep 
with mud. The soft drizzling rain had re¬ 
solved itself into a steady downpour. The 
carriage seemed swallowed up in the dark¬ 
ness. It was well that Jefferies knew the 
way and the horses he was driving. He 
chirruped and called them by name and they 
went plunging on through the mire. 

No sooner were the girls seated in the 
conveyance, the storm-robes being drawn 
about them, than Elizabeth turned to her 
companion with eager questioning. She 
was quivering with suppressed excitement. 

Nora, on the contrary, was quite calm. 
She had made her plans, and now saw her 
way clear to carry them out. Her self-con¬ 
fidence spared her unnecessary alarm. 

361 


362 ELIZABETH HOBART 

However, appreciating Elizabeth’s state of 
mind, she at once explained the condition of 
affairs at Bitumen. She was sufficiently 
tactful to tell her only that which was neces¬ 
sary for her to know. She also warned her 
to be careful what she said should anyone 
stop them on the road. 

“If we meet the strikers, they will help 
us along because I am the daughter of Den¬ 
nis O’Day. But they must not know who 
you are. On the other hand, if we meet 
anyone else, you are to impress them with 
the fact that you are Superintendent Ho¬ 
bart s only child, and that you must reach 
Bitumen to-night.” 

Turning to Jefferies, she urged him to 
keep the horses moving. “I know the car¬ 
riage will be ruined, and the horses laid up 
with stiff joints for a week or more; but 
111 pay for that. Oet us to Bitumen before 
daylight, and Mr. McCantey may make the 
bill what he chooses.” 

Although they were moving as fast as it 
was possible it seemed but a snail’s pace to 


AT EXETER HALL. 


363 


Elizabeth. She could realize nothing but 
that her father was in danger. After hear¬ 
ing Nora’s reasons for this sudden journey, 
she spoke no word but sat rigid, her hands 
clasped tightly in her lap. She was leaning 
forward, trying to pierce the darkness of 
the road before them. The rain beat into 
her face. Her cap and veil were drenched 
but she heeded them not. 

Determined to make the journey a trifle 
less strenuous for Elizabeth, Nora kept up 
a continuous flow of talk. It mattered lit¬ 
tle about what; only that there was no 
silence, but Elizabeth might as well have 
been a wooden girl so far as listening to 
her companion was concerned. They left 
the flat country roads, and began ascend¬ 
ing the mountain. The road was so narrow 
that heavy logs had been placed for safety 
along the outer side. 

For the first time since the beginning of 
their journey Jefferies spoke: “We should 
make better time here. The roads are well 
enough drained, and we would if I could see 


364 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


a yard ahead of me. I’ll let the horses go 
their own gait—they’re sure-footed enough. 
All we’ve got to do is to trust in Providence. 
I’ll get you there or kill the horses in try¬ 
ing.” 

At last, at the opening of a small ravine, 
the road broadened. The horses sprang for¬ 
ward. 

Suddenly Elizabeth, still looking eagerly 
ahead, exclaimed, “I see a light! It looks 
like a lantern.” 

The click of the horses’ hoofs upon the 
stones rang loud and clear. Jefferies drew 
them up. He leaned over sidewise to peer 
about. “I was trying to see just where we 
are. Oh, we’re all right. That light hain’t 
no lantern. That’s where Ketchomunoski 
lives. We’ll go on. He may come out if 
he hears us go by. I’ll go slow and whip 
up just as we reach his shanty.” 

“Is he a miner?” It was Nora who 
asked the question. 

“Yes.” 

“Draw down your veil, Elizabeth, and 



“ You must choose and choose quickly.” 










AT EXETER HALL. 


365 


don’t say a word to him. I’ll do the talk¬ 
ing.” 

Scarcely had she spoken when the flicker¬ 
ing light moved out into the road, directly 
in their way. Ketchomunoski, lantern in 
hand, barred their way. 

Jefferies could have urged the horses on, 
letting the big Polander run the risk of 
getting beneath their hoofs. But Jefferies 
was a peaceful man, so long as peace served 
his purpose. If strategy served, he pre¬ 
ferred it to war; if not, then he was ready 
for the last. At the flourish of the lantern, 
he drew rein, calling out in friendly tone: 
“That you, John?” By that name every 
foreigner was known. “Come here, I want 
to speak to you.” 

The Pole came to the side of the carriage. 
“We’ve got to get to Bitumen, John, and 
get there to-night. How’s the road?” 

“No one go to there to-night,” he replied, 
in his broken English. He was to watch the 
road. Men were above. He would fire his 
gun if any one suspicious passed. They 


366 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


could not go on. This was the purport of 
his speech. 

Leaning forward, Nora touched the man’s 
arm. “Don’t you know me?” she said. 
“I’m Dennis O’Day’s daughter. Listen! 
I must reach my father at once. At once, 
do you understand? I have a message to 
give him which will effect the strike. But 
I must give it to him. Fire your gun, and 
let the miners meet us. I want them to 
take me to my father.” 

She kept her hand on the man’s arm as 
she was speaking. She looked him directly 
in the eye, as though by force of her own 
will she would compel him to do her bid¬ 
ding. Her words threw a new light upon 
the case. Yet in times like this, one can 
trust the words of no one. 

“Where have I seen you?” he asked, 
scrutinizing her closely. 

Her face flushed, but she answered 
bravely. “Do you remember two years ago, 
you came to my father for help? One of 
your people was in jail—someone had been 


AT EXETER HALL. 


367 


hurt, killed, perhaps. An Italian named 
De Angelo. And my father went to court 
with you to tell that Gerani, I think that 
was his name, was not present when the 
Italian was hurt. I was at home when you 
came.” 

The man nodded. There was no ques¬ 
tion now in his mind. She was Dennis 
O’Day’s daughter, the daughter of the man, 
who, although himself not a miner, stood 
shoulder to shoulder with them when they 
needed a friend. She saw him hesitate. 

“If you are afraid to allow us to pass, fire 
your gun, and let the miners know we’re 
coming. I am not afraid of them. They 
will befriend me.” 

He stepped aside. At that instant Jef¬ 
feries brought down his whip upon the 
backs of the horses, and they started for¬ 
ward. 

“We’re rid of him,” exclaimed Nora. 
“I’m not afraid of anyone else. I’ll reach 
Bitumen and see my father before day¬ 
light.” 


368 ELIZABETH HOBART 

“And save mine,” said Elizabeth. 

“Elizabeth Hobart, your father is per- 
fectly safe. No doubt, he’s home warm and 
comfortable in bed, while we, poor mortals, 
are out in the night, drenched and forlorn. ’ ’ 

They had not gone up the mountain road 
more than a mile, when the sharp report of 
a gun was heard. There was a moment’s 
silence, followed by a second report. 

“Ketchomunoski is sending word of our 
coming,” said Nora. “I begin to feel that 
I am of some importance. This is the first 
time my appearance has been heralded.” 
Then more seriously, “I would like to know 
what two shots mean. Why wasn’t one suf¬ 
ficient % Do you know, Jefferies % ’ ’ 

But Jefferies knew nothing. He would 
not even express an opinion on the subject. 
He had no tune to give to mere surmises. 
His work was to keep the horses moving. 
This he did, encouraging them with chir¬ 
rups, or touching them lightly with the 
whip. 

Though on the mountain road there was 


AT EXETER HALL. 


369 


no mud, for the steep ascent was well- 
drained, it was hard traveling even for 
strong and swift horses. Jefferies’ heart 
smote him as he urged them on. He knew 
the horses he was driving would be useless 
for weeks, but if a man’s life hung in the 
balance, the horses must travel their best, 
though they drop dead at the end of the 
journey. 

The road from the foot to the top of the 
mountain was between three and four miles 
long. It had been cut along the side of the 
hill, and was so narrow that teams could not 
pass except at certain places, widened suf¬ 
ficiently to give ‘turning-out’ room. 

Jefferies had stopped at one of these 
places to rest his horses. Upon the instant 
they reared and would have plunged the 
carriage backward over the side, had not 
their driver retained his presence of mind 
to speak to them, leaning over to pat their 
sweating flanks. After quieting them, he 
called out: “Now you fellows attempt to 
seize the bridle again, and I’ll let you see 


370 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


liow close I can shoot to the mark. The 
horses won’t stand strangers fooling about 
them. If you’ve anything to say, come 
alongside and say it. But bear in mind, 
we’ll not put up with any funny business. 
Are you coming? If you don’t, I’ll drive 
on.” 

“Have you a revolver?” whispered Eliz¬ 
abeth. 

“You don’t think I would take a drive 
like this without one, do you?” was the re- 

ply- 

At his invitation, dark forms emerged 
from the bushes and from behind the trees. 
As they advanced, it seemed as though the 
road was filled with men. They came close, 
swinging their lanterns high to see the oc¬ 
cupants of the carriage. They were a sor- 
ry-looking set. The winter had been hard 
upon them, though the fault was their own. 
They had had little to eat; they had grown 
thin and haggard; their eyes were sunken; 
their features pinched. They jabbered in 
their own tongue, turning from one to an- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


371 


other. Elizabeth noticed with alarm that 
some bore firearms, while others carried 
clubs and even stones. She was so fright¬ 
ened that she could not have spoken a word 
had her life depended upon it. Fortu¬ 
nately Nora was different. Elizabeth 
crouched back in her seat. Nora leaned 
forward, and with a manner indicative of 
her ability to protect herself, and her con¬ 
fidence in them, she addressed them. 

“I’m glad we met you,” she exclaimed. 
“You are miners? Then you can tell me 
how to reach Mr. Dennis O’Day. I must 
reach him to-night—within a few hours. I 
have a message for him.” 

They talked among themselves. 

“What’s the message?” one asked in 
broken English. 

“It’s not to be told to every one,” she re¬ 
plied. “If you will tell me who your leader 
is, I’ll whisper it to him.” 

“Ivan,” they cried, pushing a Slav for¬ 
ward, and retreating into the shadows. 

Bending over, Nora mentioned “Militia.” 


372 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


The word was magic. Tnen she grew im¬ 
patient. “Why do you try to keep us 
here?” she exclaimed. “Didn’t Ketchomu- 
noski fire two guns? Wasn’t that to let you 
know we would come this road and that you 
should let us pass? We are wasting time. 
I must reach my father with this message. 
Good night! Jefferies, drive on.” 

The men made no effort to detain them as 
the carriage started. It was past one 
o’clock when they reached the top of the 
mountain and came to the outskirts of the 
town. “The Miners’ Rest” was less than 
a mile distant. But the horses were tired 
out. Jefferies could not get them out of a 
slow walk. 

“We’ll go at once to ‘The Miners’ 
Rest,’ ” said Miss O’Day. “I’ll see my 
father there. If the miners are planning 
any trouble, they’ll be there, too.” 

Driving into a little wood, Jefferies drew 
rein. Climbing down from his place, he 
took out a strap and tied the horses to a 
tree. 


AT EXETER HALL. 373 

They wouldn’t let us drive through 
town,” he explained. “The streets will be 
filled with the strikers. We’ll walk, keep¬ 
ing in the shadows. It’s a blessed good 
thing for us that it rains.” 

He helped the girls to alight, then strode 
on ahead, skirting the edge of the wood. 

“If you see me stop, then you stop,” he 
said. “Don’t come on until I say so. If 
you hear me talk to anyone, wait and don’t 
speak.” 

Clasping hands, the girls slowly followed. 
The side of the road was filled with clods. 
The road itself was mud to the shoe tops. 
Many times they stumbled and almost fell. 
Only at intervals could they see the form of 
their guide. 

When they reached the main street, Jef¬ 
feries paused. It was filled with miners, 
each with his lantern. These lights helped 
Jefferies to determine his next move. He 
saw in which direction the crowd tended. 
The murmur of many voices could be heard; 
but there was no uproar. 


374 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


“The women will either be out in the 
street with the men, or home asleep/ ’ he 
said at last. “Either way, we’re safe. 
We’ll cross here and get behind this row of 
houses and keep on until we’re close to ‘The 
Miners’ Rest.’ They’ll see us then. But 
no matter.” 

Slowly they pushed their way through 
backyards. Fortunately there were no di¬ 
vision fences. The winter’s crop of ashes 
and tin cans was beneath their feet. They 
stumbled, ran into barrels and boxes, waded 
through mud holes, yet Nora’s spirits never 
flagged. 

As they came to the last of the houses, 
Jefferies again paused until Nora and Eliz¬ 
abeth came up to him. 

“There at the corner is ‘The Miners’ 
Rest,’ ” he said, pointing to a low, wooden 
building. 

“That ramshackle affair!” cried Nora. 
“Somehow I had the impression it was a 
big hotel.” 

“They don’t need that kind among min- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


375 


ers,” was the reply. “This is just a drink¬ 
ing-place, nothing more. Every miner in 
Bitumen is there. Look at those women. 
They’re worse than the men.” 

A group of women with hair hanging, 
dressed in dirty wrappers, and shawls about 
their shoulders, stood together under the 
flickering corner lamp. To judge from 
their gesticulations, they were much ex¬ 
cited. They were all talking at once and 
shaking their clenched fists in defiance. 

“Are you afraid to go through that 
mob?” asked Jefferies. 

“No; we dare not be afraid of anything 
now. Push ahead, Jefferies, straight to the 
door, and on through until I find my father. 
Don’t stop. We’ll keep at your heels. 
Draw down your veil, Elizabeth, and put 
up your collar. Don’t speak or tell who 
you are. Remember the miners know you. ’ ’ 
Following her suggestion, J eff eries 
crossed the street, pushing his way through 
the throng, as though he was expected. 
The girls kept close to him, so close that 


376 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


Nora could have reached forth and touched 
his arm. The mob of men scarcely noticed 
him. Indeed, few knew that the two girls 
had slipped through the crowd. They 
were talking in half a dozen different 
tongues and dialects. The effect was like a 
pack of dogs snarling. No attempt was 
made to stop the three. They reached the 
door and Jefferies entered, followed by the 
girls. Nora’s cheeks were crimson with 
embarrassment. She was trembling. Her 
nerves had been so wrought upon that she 
was ready to cry. But that would spoil all. 
She must control herself. 

Behind the bar was a room devoted to 
conferences of the leaders of the strike. 
Toward the door leading to this Jefferies 
made his way. The men in the bar-room 
stopped talking to look at the girls. It was 
unusual to see women in this place. 

Nora, feeling herself conspicuous, with a 
desire both to justify her presence there, 
and to protect herself and companion, ex¬ 
claimed, “My father is in that room, Mr. 


AT EXETER HALL. 


377 


Jefferies. Ask for Mr. O'Day. Tell him 
his daughter has come with an important 
message." 

The men stepped aside, leaving her way 
clear. Her words had carried into the in¬ 
ner room. The door was flung open from 
within, and Dennis O'Day stood there. . 

“You!" he exclaimed. “Good heavens, 
ISTcfra, how did you get here at such a time? 
Come here," and he drew the girls into the 
inner room. He dismissed at once the half 
dozen men gathered there. “In half an 
hour," he said significantly as they passed 
out. “Not a minute before that. I must 
see what has brought my daughter here.'' 

Elizabeth, drenched and with draggled 
skirts, sank into a chair. She had not 
raised her veil. Dennis O'Day did not rec¬ 
ognize her as the little girl whom he had 
seen many times playing about the superin¬ 
tendent 's yard. She was so nearly ex¬ 
hausted that she could not stand. She let 
her head fall over upon the table. 

Dennis O 'Day glanced from the drooping 


378 ELIZABETH HOBART 

figure back to bis daughter as though ask¬ 
ing an explanation. “My dearest friend at 
Exeter, father,” was the reply to the un¬ 
spoken question. “No one else in the 
world, except yourself, has been so kind to 
me.” She came closer to Dennis O’Day, 
touching his sleeve with her finger-tips. 
His little world had always trembled in fear 
of him. His daughter alone stood fearless 
in his presence. She was the only being in 
the world he loved. For an instant he 
looked into her face. Her perfect features 
and rich coloring delighted him. He was 
glad that she was beautiful. 

“Well, Nora, what is it that has brought 
you to Bitumen at this of all times'?” he 
asked, putting his arm about her and draw¬ 
ing her close to him. 

“The strike.” 

“The strike! It is just the reason that 
you shouldn’t be here. I’ve a notion to 
cart-whip Jefferies for bringing you. You 
might have been shot by the miners.” 

“So I might. But Jefferies wasn’t asked 


AT EXETER HALL. 


379 


anything about it, daddy. I told him he 
had to bring me here before morning, and 
if he killed the horses by hard driving, 
you’d pay for them.” 

Dennis O’Day laughed. He liked her 
audacity. “But suppose I wouldn’t?” 

“But you would. You have never failed 
me yet, daddy, and you never will. It 
doesn’t matter much what happens, you’ll 
stand by me. That is why I felt so sure 
about coming. Dr. Morgan did not wish 
me to. She said it would be useless. But 
she yielded when I insisted that you would 
do what was right. And you must do it 
now, daddy.” She drew down his head to 
kiss him. “You must keep the miners from 
attacking the mines to-night.” 

“I? I’m no miner! What have I to do 
with the strike? If the men attack that 
miserable little sneak of a superintendent, 
what have I to say?” 

“Everything. You are not a miner, but 
they do as you say. They do not know it 
is so, but you do. I want you to go out 


380 


ELIZABETH HOBART 


there; tell them—tell them anything, only 
so they do not make the attack to-night.” 

“ Nonsense. Even if they should do as 
I say, what’s the odds? I’ve no love for 
that man Hobart. He’s been fighting me 
for years. He’ll get no more than he de¬ 
serves. No, no, Nora. Girls mustn’t med¬ 
dle.” 

“You won’t go?” 

“No; ask me anything else than that.” 

“Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do. The 
National Guards are on their way now. 
When they come, I’ll give them all the in¬ 
formation they wish. I know who urged 
this on. I know who killed the Italian. 
Oh, I know lots of things that I’ve kept to 
myself because my telling would harm you. 
But—” She was excited. Whether she 
pretended this high state of emotion, or 
whether it was real, was difficult to tell. 
She had flung open her coat. The vivid 
coloring of her gown, her crimson cheeks 
and flashing eyes made a brilliant bit of col¬ 
oring in the dark room lighted by a solitary, 


AT EXETER HALL. 381 

smoking oil-lamp. Her tones were clear 
and decisive. 

“Why, Nora, listen to reason. How—” 

“No, I will not listen to anything but your 
promise to go and stop that mob. Listen 
to them yelling like a pack of hyenas. I’m 
not through yet. You must choose and 
choose quickly. Stand by the miners or 
me. If you forsake me, I’ll never see you 
again. I’ll never let you do anything for 
me. I’ll be as though you never had a 
daughter. Then what will be the good of 
all your money and your saving? There’ll 
be no one to waste it on; no one to care 
about you. You know that mother left me 
enough to live on. Besides, I can work. 
Will you go f ” She fairly blazed her words 
at him. She stamped her foot until the 
chairs and tables shook. 

Dennis O’Day had been her slave since 
babyhood. She had always had her way, 
and had done as she had threatened. He 
knew, too, that she was the only one who 
had a bit of tenderness for him. The men 


382 ELIZABETH HOBART 

outside eared little for Mm. Pear of the 
consequences was the sole reason that many 
a miner had not quietly assisted Mm into 
the next world. 

Nora came up to him again. She rested 
her head against Ms shoulder. “Listen, 
daddy, to what I tell you,” she said gently, 
her anger disappearing. In a few words 
she told him of her isolation at school, and 
how Elizabeth Hobart had befriended her. 
Her eyes filled as she talked. Her hearer, 
too, was moved. When she had finished, 
she kissed him again. “I’ll be to you the 
best daughter a man ever had. Go now,” 
pushing him toward the door. “And tell 
them that I have brought you news wMch 
changes the program. I’ll go with you, 
daddy. If they harm you, I’ll bear the 
blows too.” 

He told her to stay, but she followed close 
after him. He had no fear of bodily barm 
There would be growls and snarls, and per¬ 
haps threats, but the trouble would end 
there. Gerani, Colowski, Raffelo, Sicker- 


AT EXETER HALL. 


383 


enza, were the bell-sheep. He could control 
them. 

Pushing his way to the front of the sa¬ 
loon, he stood in the doorway and shouted 
with the full force of his lungs. He spoke 
Slavic, and they listened. There were mut- 
terings and growls as might have been ex¬ 
pected. He gave no reason for the delay 
of the attack, but his words suggested much. 

Gerani, in the background, in low tones 
was urging a group of Slavs to answer 
O’Day, and declare that they would go on. 
O’Day’s eyes were on the big Slav. He un¬ 
derstood the conditions. Nothing would 
please Gerani better than to have the min¬ 
ers rush upon the speaker and kill him. 

O ’Day understood. He called out, “Take 
my word for it, Gerani. We won’t get into 
this to-night. They’ve filled the cars on the 
incline with dynamite. The moment we set 
foot there, down comes the car. Do you 
want your men blown to pieces? Besides, 
my daughter,” he drew her against him, 
“brings news of the militia close at hand. 


384 ELIZABETH HOBART 

Go back to your homes, men—back to bed. 
Let the National Guards find you all asleep, 
and their work for nothing. If they see all 
quiet, they’ll leave. Then will come our 
time. While I think of it, Gerani, Father 
O’Brady still keeps safe in the church those 
papers you know of. 

“Siekerenza, you haven’t forgotten, 
have you, about the breakers being burnt 
up at Wilkes-Barre? Seeing you, put me 
in mind of them. 

“Colowski, I know a man who’s looking 
for Sobieski.” 

The three men thus addressed swore be¬ 
neath their breath. Thus O’Day forever 
kept the noose about their necks. They 
slunk from sight. 

“Speak to the men, you curs,” com¬ 
manded O’Day in English which but a few 
understood. “Tell them to go back home, 
Gerani.” 

Thus admonished, the man cried out in 
Slavic, ordering the men home, to meet the 
following night. The other two leading 


AT EXETER HALL. 


385 


spirits followed his example. There was a 
movement toward dispersion. The flicker¬ 
ing lights in their caps moved slowly away 
in groups of threes and fours. 

The distance grew greater until to Nora 
O ’Day they looked like fire-flies. The light 
from the open door was upon her. The 
vivid orange of her evening dress gleamed 
in the shadows. She had stood there fear¬ 
less, erect, looking straight into the eyes of 
the mob, until one by one they had disap¬ 
peared in the darkness. 

Then she turned and leaned heavily 
against her father. 

“I’m tired, daddy dear, but I’m happy. 
I have my father, and Elizabeth will have 
hers. Come, take me to her. We must tell 
her the good news.” 


THE END. 



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